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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24958414">A Little Birdy Told Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_is_my_toenail_collection/pseuds/This_is_my_toenail_collection'>This_is_my_toenail_collection</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Arcana (Visual Novel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Because they scare me, Blood and Gore, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Choose Your Own Ending, Emotional Constipation, Eventual Happy Ending, Everyone Needs A Hug, Except Valdemar, Fluff, Harassment, Harm to Children, Hurt/Comfort, Illiteracy, Loneliness, M/M, Male Apprentice (The Arcana), Multiple Endings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Second Person, POV Third Person, Physical Therapy, Pining, Pre-Canon, Protective Lucio, Red Plague (The Arcana), Sharing a Bed, Sickfic, Slow Burn, Swearing, They can have a light head pat, Unnamed Apprentice (The Arcana), pov switching</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:02:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>32,080</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24958414</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_is_my_toenail_collection/pseuds/This_is_my_toenail_collection</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the absence of Doctor Julian Devorak, another doctor must be assigned to the Count of Vesuvia. Surely an apprentice is qualified.</p><p>Set before the game, two people are abandoned by their loved ones to face the plague alone. Finding each other may give them both the hope they need to survive.</p><p>Or the strength to die with dignity.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Apprentice/Lucio (The Arcana), Lucio (The Arcana)/Reader, Lucio (The Arcana)/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>94</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>175</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is gonna be a big one boys, welcome and thanks for checking it out.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You wake to the sound of ringing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the Quaestors facility, the relentless clang of the heavy metal mallet on the iron bell is the only mark to distinguish the morning from the evening. Every sleeping medic rises immediately to begin their shift. Every working medic trudges to their cots the moment the first bell tolls. The people, the gears of the underground facility, turn flawlessly and robotically every morning and every evening for the shift change. They are more a machine than a workforce.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To be late to bed is to miss precious hours of rest for their weary bodies, to be late to rise is to forfeit rest hours for the following three days. Such is the penalty for impeding progress, or so the Quaestor decreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Doctors had the mercy of independent research time, two hours a day where they could stay in their offices and escape the nightmare of the facility. They were the important ones, the rest of the medical staff the castle held captive were not so graced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You aren't given the privacy of an office, you sleep in dormitories of 30 people to a room. The jobs are gruellingly repetitive at best, and stomach-twistingly vile at worst. Charting the patients symptoms, sorting and cataloging human remains. You aren't qualified to do the skilled work of the nurses. You are just an apprentice, there to lend a helping hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were training to be a doctor, once upon a time. You were an apprentice under the well known Doctor Devorak, but that was...months ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You trudge on without him, going numbly from shift to sleep. Repeating the cycle each day without fail. You aren't upset, no matter how demeaning the lifestyle or soul-crushing the work, in the end you chose this. You stay so that your contribution might help end the plague destroying the city you were born in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesuvia, your home, was dying around you.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shove</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re almost knocked to the floor with the force of the others pushing past you. In your thoughts you’d stopped walking, eyes glued to the ground. The seemingly endless line of peers push past, unseeing, to continue their clockwork march. You stare in complete loss at the stream of marching shoes and beaked faces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What...what do you do now?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’d marched the exact same steps to do the exact same job every single day for months, there's a terrifying moment where you can't move. You freeze, completely incapable of deciding where to go or how to get back in line. Your attention is drawn by a small cry behind you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning slowly, you readjust your mask to peer into the small cage, just barely large enough to house one person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where am I supposed to go..?” the small voice is hardly above a whisper. Your gaze fixes on a small boy, eyes dyed the familiar red of the plague. His thin frame is crouched on the floor of his cage and he points a frail finger to an inconsequential spot on the tiled floor. You stare at the spot on the floor where he points for a moment before looking back to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You stay there” you respond dully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know where I’m supposed to go…” He repeats wearily. You're desensitised by this point to the late-stage delirium of the patients, still the unseeing desperation in the boys eyes makes you falter. Kneeling to the floor you use the softest, most sincere voice you can muster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re here to help you little friend, is there anything I can do for you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can...I need the…” The child makes a ‘c’ with his hand and closes his eyes, fighting through his confusion to put words to his wants. “The...cold in that bucket…” He finally decides. You smile sweetly as the boy gestures again to something that isn’t there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like some water, sweetheart?” You translate the cryptic request with practiced ease. The boy's scarlet eyes focus momentarily, seemingly relieved you know the words he can't remember. With a nod you move to fetch a cup for the patient.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drinks the water happily and in a scratchy voice says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You...thank you...you’re a good one here” before weakly tapping the end of your beak-like mask and curling back up. You smile softly before taking the cup with gloved hands and looking for a place to rejoin the line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You do the same work in the same line every day. No weekends, no downtime, you hadn’t even seen the sky, but you're choosing to do this. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>chose </span>
  </em>
  <span>this. If your contribution can stop the plague one death earlier than if you hadn't helped, then it will be more than worth it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So when you hear the bell you rise, and when the others march you march, and when they tell you to work you work until your mind goes numb and you forget your own name. You work until you can no longer tell the difference between yourself and the hundred other people working alongside you. Marching in the same line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because you chose to suffer this, so others may not have to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>0</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today is simply determined to pull you from your forced routine. Perhaps only a few hours into the work shift you are pulled away and put in a group of other medical staff. Before you stands an impatient looking doctor, in his hand is a tin can that rattles as he shakes it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The draw? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Months ago Dr. Julian Devorak abandoned the facility, leaving his most important patient without a primary physician. Vesuvia’s "beloved" Count Lucio demanded to be seen daily by a doctor to assess the progression of the plague within his system. With the absence of his regular Doctor, Quaestor Valdimar had attend to the Count each day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was only a temporary arrangement, the Quaestor had more important things to do, so a draw had been set up to determine who would be the counts physician going forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Needless to say no one wanted to draw the black stone from the can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that's for doctors, there must be some mistake. You're only an apprentice, you have no place in the draw. Looking around wildly you notice you are not alone, a few other apprentices and helpers stand among the doctors in the group. All of which are looking around in similar confusion, all of which also began training around the same time you did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another sharp rattle from the can draws your attention back to the matter at hand. You'll draw a regular stone, you think to yourself, willing it into existence. You'll draw a normal, uninked stone and you'll go back to your unassuming work. The can passes slowly around the room, each person present drawing a stone and holding it in their closed fist. Unaware of the color.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a breath you close your eyes and summon the magic you remember. Your body practically sighs at the familiar thrum of power in your veins, a power you hadn't had the need or permission to use in a long time. Holding out your hand, eyes still closed, you feel the cool tin of the can settle in your grasp. Passed on by the shivering CNA to your right. Reaching into the can you feel around the small, round shapes. Feeling the energy through the magical currents in your fingertips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You focus hard on the feeling of comfort, a draw such as this leads fate down diverging paths. You focus on the future you want and find the stone that will give it to you, gently closing your hand around it. Pulling your hand out you open your eyes and pass the can on, releasing the breath you were holding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You listen dully to the rattle of the can as the rest of those present pick their stones. The one clasped in your hand is almost perfectly round like a marble. It's hard to feel texture through your thick, protective gloves. None the less you're certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, you'd drawn the right one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the can is returned, people immediately begin looking at their stones. Sighs of relief fill the room as people look upon their ordinary grey lumps. A sinking feeling bubbles in your throat like overboiled stew as you stare at your closed fingers. You begin to think you may have played yourself. Prying your fingers open you try to feel surprised at the sight of the ink black stone in your palm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end you're not too shocked, after everything else this might as well happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking your head you advance through the crowd to the impatient doctor holding the empty can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Excuse me?" Your voice is smaller than you want it to be, broken from disuse. The doctor eyes you with disinterest, noticing the black stone you brandish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh so it's you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes but I'm not a doctor." You insist as they try to walk away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Due to short staffing the requirement has been waived" they wave their hand lazily as they speak. "You trained under 069, a routine check should be a walk in the park for you. Apprentice or otherwise."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Opening your mouth to speak you quickly think better of it. Controversy is harshly punished in a place like this, instead you nod and move to gather your equipment. You'd heard many a horror story about the demanding Count, but none of them first hand and you'd definitely never met the man in person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing before the one person elevator to the upper castle floors you can no longer imagine why someone wouldn't want the black stone. You were</span>
  <em>
    <span> leaving. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Just for a few hours a day, a few precious moments outside the prison of a workplace was happily worth having to interact with Count Lucio. A wide grin hurts your cheeks as you ride the rising contraption.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stepping out you feel the oppressive air of the facility lift off you like a weighted blanket. You breathe no fresh air through your beaked mask and you feel no sun or breeze through your heavy smock and gloves. But just knowing the facility is beneath your feet, practically forgotten, is euphoric.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one speaks to you as you make your way through the halls. Many servants abruptly change paths to avoid you. That's fair enough, you suppose, your uniform can be a bit unsettling. The dried asters in the break of your mask were severely withered by now, you wonder idly if you'd be able to find fresh ones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Counts wing of the palace didn't just seem empty, it seemed abandoned, </span>
  <em>
    <span>avoided </span>
  </em>
  <span>even. Was this man really that obnoxious? Opening the door with a small creak you step inside.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave a comment to make me unreasonably happy. They are my only sustenance and vlagnagog hungersssss.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It had been weeks since Lucio had seen his wife. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that they had ever been emotionally close, but he hoped she'd visit at least once in a while. Or once. Or that </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> would visit. His health declined steadily as the days passed by, lying in his bed. Then weeks passed. His dogs, bless them, were the only company he had. He was lonely beyond all belief but more than that,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was angry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He'd given Vesuvia everything they'd asked for. Protection, festivities, even Bloodsport though he wasn't allowed to participate. A travesty really, he would've absolutely conquered in the arena. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He received nothing in return, no loyalty or kindness or affection. He was just left to rot the moment he was no longer fun. Left to atrophy alone in his room, even the servants avoided his wing. Yes he was pissed beyond reason. Why even bother doing nice things for people if they didn't appreciate it? No one ever seemed to appreciate him no matter what he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was it him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling onto his side he felt his chest tighten with the effort. Wet coughs and hacks racked his body for so long he started to think he'd never breathe again. It hurt, but that wasn't new, everything hurt. He'd been this way for far longer than anyone else who'd contracted the plague. None of the doctors could explain how he'd survived so long but the muscle weakness and respiratory disease made sure every day was harder than the last. He was practically a skeleton by this point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the time he'd been completely isolated from the outside world all he'd had were his thoughts, and they always seemed to follow the same cycle. Loneliness, from the solitude, becomes anger at his people. Which becomes the same question he keeps asking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was it him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was he the reason no one cared to visit in his time of illness? How come everyone else in the world had seemingly no trouble making connections but </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> always ended like this? His friends were always just there for fair weather. Even his wife was callous and distant. If no one else had these troubles then...it </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be him. Perhaps he was the only one in the world who </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> company, wanted attention. Maybe everyone just sucked and he'd never find anyone good enough to stay with him. That thought made him feel lonelier than any other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So the cycle continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a lifetime running from his thoughts and drowning them in delicious drinks and beautiful strangers, he found actually having to think was torment. Like sitting in a pot of boiling water, his thoughts sloshed in his head and burned indiscriminately. They worked at his nerves and demanded his attention until he passed out from feverish mental exhaustion, then when he woke they started again. Constant and inescapable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that wasn't even the worst part of the day, the worst part was every day at dusk. Valdimar was perfectly on time every day to check the Counts vitals and assess his decline. When Jules was Lucios physician he didn't mind, at least Jules was cute and could hold a conversation. Valdimar was just... unnerving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every day, the moment dusk settled outside Lucios window, the creepy fuck would open the door and clip across the room, wide eyes made Lucio feel far too exposed and cold fingers made his skin crawl. Lucio groaned as the sun sat again as it must every evening. He still had a few minutes before the doctors usual arrival but that did little to console him. How could he even use such extra time? Thinking? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his surprise the door knob turned early. Slow and stopping before actually opening the door. Valdimar was never </span>
  <em>
    <span>early.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The room went silent again as the knob stopped turning, whoever was on the other side hesitated. Then in a swift motion the door swung open and a well put-together young man in a typical plague mask strode into the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good evening Your Excellency," he greeted primly, fast strides carrying him quickly across the carpet, "in the absence of Doctor Devorak and the unavailability of the Quaestor I will be acting as your physician today." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio watched the young man as he set his bag on the nightstand, digging around in it for something. Even with the ache in his bones and the cotton in his head Lucio still felt the distinct swell of pride welling in him. He'd never been called "Your Excellency" before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> pretty excellent, aren't I?" He smirked, but his voice scratched in his underused throat. The bird face tilted towards him in a manner that seemed almost confused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course, my lord…" he responded slowly. Suddenly Lucio felt silly, like he was the one saying weird things. The way the man responded was reminiscent of how one would respond to a babbling homeless man. The audacity of this doctor, young from what little Lucio could see of him, to speak to the count in such a manner. Like a mental patient. Lucio had not lost his mind! His illness had </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> progressed that far he was sure! He panicked about it regularly, he knew what he was talking about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What's your name" he demanded, he'd have the boy punished for...for... Making Lucio uncomfortable! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Number 137" he answers, pulling a bottle of leeches from the bag and shaking his head before putting it back and continuing to search.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your </span>
  <em>
    <span>name, </span>
  </em>
  <span>not some number, tell me!" He was getting angry now. The man looked upon the plague riddled bedridden count and had to admit he wasn't particularly frightened. With a sigh he pulled a metal cup out of his bag and placed it on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think we may have started on the wrong note here, friend. I'm not allowed to tell you my name but you're welcome to tell me yours."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were a lot of things Lucio suddenly wanted to say but one took obvious precedence over the rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't know my name?!" He practically shouted in indignation. The doctor rightfully backpedaled almost immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh no no I do, I've read over your file extensively." He coughed nervously before adjusting his beak to continue. "You see you just have so </span>
  <em>
    <span>many </span>
  </em>
  <span>my lord, your legal name is listed as 'Montag Morgasson'"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio almost choked on his own tongue at the unexpected voicing of the name he thought he'd killed. But the quick-spoken doctor continued before the count could comment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You also have many listed aliases including but not limited to 'scourge of the south' and 'Lucio'. There's also the possibility that you'd prefer to be called by your title and not your name. In any case it is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>that I don't know your name Your Excellency," he paused to catch a breath and gauge the count's reaction. "It's simply that I don't know which is appropriate."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio narrowed his eyes, unsure if the stranger was finished speaking or not. After a moment he opened his mouth before snapping it shut immediately. He was going to tell the bird-faced weirdo to call him 'Lucio' like everyone else, but the man had given him a new name without knowing, one that made Lucios heart race with pride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think 'Your Excellency' has a nice ring to it." He finally answered. The doctor's mask betrayed no change in facial expression, but Lucio could almost see the amused smile in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"'Your Excellency' it is"</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave a comment to make me unreasonably happy. They are my only sustenance and vlagnagog hungersssss.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"So... what's </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>name</span>
  <em>
    <span>?" </span>
  </em>
  <span>The count asks again, you fix him with a stare through your mask's goggles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not allowed to give you personal information of any kind, may I see your arm?" You respond calmly, he snorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That didn't stop Jules, c'mon" he pries. You shake your head slowly, kneeling on the floor to be at his eye level.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"May I see your arm?" You repeat patiently. He huffs before holding out his golden arm. You marvel for a moment at the device, expertly crafted and infused with powerful magic. Your hand hovers over it for a moment wanting to touch it before returning to the task at hand. "Your other arm, friend"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Count blinks in confusion at your continued use of the word "friend" but his expression slips quickly into a cheeky grin as he switches to his other arm. Placing two fingers over his pulse you count, watching the clock from the corner of your eye. It's difficult to feel the fluttering beat through the glove, but you're practiced enough to manage. You write the heart rate on your notepad and move on, making an orb of light appear in your hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio marvel's for a moment before practically shouting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ohh! Is that magic?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, look here please" you hold up a finger for him to focus on. Leaning close you shine the light in his eye, examining the sclera and pupil carefully. The pupil shrinks with the light and the red in the sclera is only in it's beginning stages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio is usually all for having people stare at him, but the glassy goggles of the doctor's mask gives him the shivers, staring that intently into his eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey why don't you take that dingy mask off? You'll see me better, dear." He winks flirtatiously but the doctor doesn't seem to react.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How odd…" you mutter mostly to yourself as you watch the barely plagued eye flit back and forth nervously. Lucio clears his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah ehem what? What's wrong?" He seems overly nervous, then again your statement was pretty ominous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nothing, you're fine. Too fine" you mutter, examining the skin around his eyes and nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well you're not bad yourself" he purrs shamelessly. "What I can see of you anyway" he rolls his red eyes. Normally you'd have some kind of banter to return but you were too preoccupied with your confusion. The Count had allegedly contracted the pestilence a long time ago, yet here he was hardly showing symptoms in the time where anyone else would have died three times over. Why did it progress so slowly in him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And if he was hardly sick, why was he in bed?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey I won't be ignored!" Lucio pipes up suddenly, snapping you out of your stupor. You hadn't realized just how close to him you'd gotten. "Take that stupid mask off, you look like a bird" He sneers. You shake your head again, mildly humored by his impatience. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can't risk spreading your contamination."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh whatever, you're exposed to way worse than me down in that basement. You're probably already sick."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can't remove my safety equipment"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Safety shmafety, the other doctors took the mask off. Are you forgetting I'm your Count?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't answer to you, Your Excellency, I answer to Quaestor Valdimar." You extinguish the light and retrieve the metal cup from the nightstand, not looking at the Count.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh really?" He snarls, breathing going heavy. "And who do you think Valdy answers to hmm?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Satan, probably" you mumble into the cup. To your surprise Lucio snorts a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hah! You said it, not me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You smile but you know Lucio can't see it. You stand and circle around the bed, motioning for the count not to move. Lifting his shirt you press the rim of the cup to his back, you place your ear on the bottom of the cup to listen to his lungs. His spine and ribs stick out a little too far to be healthy, perhaps he's a bit more sickly than you originally thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah that's so cold…" he bites his lip, seemingly enjoying the process a bit too much. You fight to suppress a groan as you hear his breathing hitch through the metal. Is this guy always like this?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Deep breaths for me please." You ask softly, the kind tone only making his cheeks flush more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How can I when you're taking my breath away?" He shoots back seamlessly. You listen for a moment longer to the shuttering rattles of his sickly breathing. It sounds bad, but not like anything you didn't expect. Satisfied you re-circle the bed to your original kneeling place and pack the tools away, jotting a few more notes down for charting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What are you writing?" He leans forward invading your space. You suppose he has a right to be curious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Vitals, progress, other notes…" you hum distractedly. He stares intently as you write the letters, as if trying to understand how what you said could be construed from what you wrote.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a while, watching you write bores him and he leans back, you stand to leave but he stops you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Aren't you going to question me? The others questioned me." He says quickly. You're about to refuse when a thought strikes you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why are you in bed?" He blinks at the question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Because I'm sick" he makes a face as if you asked something outlandish. Perhaps it's best if you clarify.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No one's seen you outside your room since you contracted the pestilence. Have you been bedridden this entire time?" You feel suddenly more like a journalist than a medic, he scoffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course for the most part, that's what you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>when you're </span>
  <em>
    <span>sick.</span>
  </em>
  <span>" He says it like he's speaking to a small child. "And you call yourself a doctor…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not a doctor" you shake your head quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?! Why are you in my room?!" He squawks. Adjusting to kneel back down you fold your hands on the bed in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was an apprentice of Doctor Devorak, and I've been deemed plenty qualified to handle your checks and vitals." You explain bluntly. He looks you up and down before scowling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can't believe this, sending an </span>
  <em>
    <span>ex-apprentice</span>
  </em>
  <span> to tend to me? Do I mean nothing to them?" He's obviously upset, you gather your words for a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm still an apprentice, just not of the same doctor. Do you want me to leave–?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No no! I'm not done with you." His words say anger but his tone says fear. Why does he keep prolonging the conversation? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're not an apprentice, you're just a fool in a bird mask. Show your face!" He commands, though it doesn't hold much weight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Closing your eyes you think about how to best approach this man. You let every story you'd heard and every notion you had fall away. He's just a patient, and you're here to help him. Opening your eyes he stares at you intently, waiting for you to comply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seems scared you aren't who you say you are, how would you help any other patient in this situation? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can you close your eyes for me?" your request is calm, trusting. He furrows his brows. You put your hands on his and he twitches slightly at the gesture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What are you doing?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Close your eyes for me please" you repeat just as calmly. This is something you've used on frightened delusional patients in the past. The ones who couldn't stand the sight of the creepy mask you wore. You got the suspicion he was also off-put by the glassy eyes and unnaturally elongated beak. With a last pointed glare he complies, red eyes closing and hands clenching into fists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You keep your hands on his so he knows where they are, with his eyes closed the mask could not make him as uncomfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry I can't take off the mask, friend. Tell me, can you walk?" you ask kindly. His face twists for a moment before he answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I haven't tried in a while…" his answer was begrudgingly compliant, but it was compliant nonetheless. His hands relax as you speak again in a calming tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can you try with me now? If you don't walk you'll lose the ability." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His breathing settles, still upset but obviously not sensing disrespect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Valdemar told me to stay in bed." He grumbled. That's odd...why would they lie to a patient?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can you try anyway? It can't be fun being in bed all day"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not" he scoffed, eyes opening finally. His smirk played on his lips comfortably, your trick worked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing from your kneeling position you hold out a hand to the Count. He eyes it for a moment before grasping it and hoisting himself up. He immediately over balances and leans precariously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"WoahOAH! Falling!" He flails with his arms out to the sides. Holding his forearms lightly you help him rebalance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not going to let you fall" you mumble, almost a whisper. He's comforted by your tone, gaining confidence as he tries taking steps. After a few attempts he's still leaning heavily on you. On one hand he could just be looking for an excuse to keep you touching him, but the strain on his face says he's mostly struggling. After several minutes of trying to walk and listening as he talks incessantly about his decor, you ask casually as you can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you get any visitors? You seem lonely in here" he freezes before rounding on you, falling flat from the lack of your assistance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why's that any of your business?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you alright?" You counter calmly and smoothly, extending a hand to help him up. He struggles for a moment before going on the offensive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why do you ask so many weird questions?" He asks too quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You just have to chuckle at him for still not understanding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I ask because I'm your medic, and I'll ask again, are you alright?" The question is so soft, so honest Lucio feels his pulse beat in his ears. Surely the dumb apprentice isn’t serious. Surely the birdie realizes what that tone was doing to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio looked from the extended hand to the tilted mask of the strangely kind medic. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Was</span>
  </em>
  <span> he alright? The fall stung a little but he'd be fine. But the tone you used seemed to ask about more than the present situation. Was he alright? Alone in his room day in and day out, only his thoughts to occupy him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You saw him give the smallest, almost imperceptible shake of his head. Nodding lightly you help him back to his bed and make sure he's comfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then I'll be back" you say playfully as you make your exit. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave a comment to make me unreasonably happy. They are my only sustenance and vlagnagog hungersssss.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The boy keeps his promise to return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every day at dusk Lucio no longer feared the arrival of his medic. In his eyes, Valdemar had been thoroughly outclassed by the charming and helpful young apprentice who now tended to him. The Birdy never took off his mask but as the days passed and he stayed just as kind towards the ill Count, Lucio came to a conclusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could get this one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure, Lucio was unfathomably sick and couldn't get out of bed on his own, but the medic was still kind to him. Birdy obviously had a thing for him, Lucio just had to figure out what he was after. Like fishing, he only needed the right bait and his catch would be helpless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought long and hard about his assets while the bird was helping him walk again, as he seemed so intent on doing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hated to admit it, but there really was no getting around it this time. The boy probably wasn't here for Lucio's looks. Not when he was sick and skinny and hacking up a lung every two minutes. So perhaps it was money that would sway him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know those clothes are so shabby, I could get you new ones if you'd show me your face?" He wiggled his eyebrows flirtatiously as the apprentice made him do simple leg stretches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This is my uniform." He responded softly, patiently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Really?" Lucio wrinkled his nose at the idea of the palace making its employees wear such a thing. "Well what if I were to get you a new outfit entirely? Custom sewn with the finest Prakran silks?" He dropped his voice to a sultry whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'd still have to wear my uniform to work, mask included." He chuckled, completely dodging Lucio's obvious attempts to steer the conversation. "I'd still thank you for your efforts though." He added softly, almost as if he felt bad. Lucio's face went red at the prospect of his offers earning him </span>
  <em>
    <span>pity</span>
  </em>
  <span> instead of favor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obviously clothes were the wrong idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>0</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your hands are lovely" the count cooed from the bed as you wrote your notes for the day. There wasn't much to see of your hands under your gloves, but he'd been so obviously trying to seduce you all week that you waved it off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What's the other one for?" He tried again to get your attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He must have noticed you had two notebooks now. One for his daily checks you had to report to the Quaestor, the other for your personal project of helping the Count walk. You hadn't intended to pick up the extra project but you just couldn't bear the thought of the Count not even having the small independence of walking. Besides, he was making great strides. He could cross the room on his own before needing help returning to his bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This one records your vitals, and this one is for keeping track of your physical therapy." You answer easily. He just puckers his lips in suspicion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How do I know you're not lying?" He asks, you finish your notes before responding. Not even speaking to defend yourself, just dropping the book in his lap for his inspection. He looks quickly from you to the bound leather for a moment before he picks it up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Opening it to the middle he holds it a bit too close to his face. His head nods like he understands but his eyes remain nervously fixed on you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mhm yep ok I see now." He nods frantically as he flips through the pages. Stopping once in a while to point at a random entry and murmur things like "ahah" and "oh this definitely". With a nervous cough he hands the notebook back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You look from the notebook in your hand to the nervously nodding Count and feel bad. You know from his file that he can't read and giving him the book was meant to be funny, you hadn't expected him to be so self-conscious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Forgive me, your Excellency, I wasn't trying to be mean. I know you can't read." You sigh apologetically, knowing it's best to admit when a mistake is made. The Count practically jumps off the bed at your words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah! AWWAWAAHT? I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>read!" He defends loudly. You tilt your head at his antics but he continues. "Good grief, why does everyone think I can't read? I've read orders and bills and all kinds of things!" His voice gets high pitched in his defense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your file says you're illiterate" you state, hoping he doesn't think you're trying to start an argument.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well the """file""" is wrong, And no one would be able to read your handwriting anyway" he folds his arms across his chest and glowers down at you. You look down at the neat and legible script you'd always been proud of and back to the Count. You flip to a blank page and write down a few random words from previous notes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prescription</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diagnosis</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hypothesis</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sterile</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quarantine</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were difficult, but not super hard for a seasoned reader. Giving the notebook to him you asked him to read the words aloud. He stared at the page for a moment, mouthing something, then shoved the notebook back to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well this is a waste of time and I won't give you the satisfaction" he spits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An idea strikes you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But you do know what it says?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course I do"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's incredible that you know how to read given where you grew up." You let your genuine interest seep into your voice. "The South is more based in oral tradition, right?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio blinks at that. He didn't like thinking of home if he could help it, but this was the first interest the Birdy had shown. Could he possibly, finally be flirting back?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You watch as a smug smile forms on the Counts face from your praise and interest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Weeeell you don't really have access to writing materials when you're down there in the wilds." He drawls smugly. "Surviving off the land...fending for yourself…" he chuckles to himself and watches you from the corner of his eye. You have to suppress a laugh of your own at how you can practically see how rugged and mysterious he thinks he is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So how </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>you learn to read?" You ask lightly. He stretches his non-prosthetic arm behind his head as he answers, trying to be subtle about flexing his muscles for you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I left the south to be a mercenary, and when you're fighting for glory on battlefields and taking written orders at moments notice…" he leans in close to whisper "you have to pick up a few skills to get you through." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So you learned on the battlefield?" Your question is quiet but incredulous, there's no way mercenary work taught him to read.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hah! No" he waves dismissively, smugly picking at his nails. "I am self-taught."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He says it like it's super impressive, but you actually think it's believable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quickly opening your notebook again you write a few more words, this time chosen differently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Retreat</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hold</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ready</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reward</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ambush</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You give the notebook to him and he visibly relaxes, reading the page aloud without issue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"See? What'd I tell you?" He looks impossibly smug at his accomplishment, but you feel like something heavy settled in your stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His chart </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Count could read, just not very well. And only certain things. He learned it himself so he had none of the fundamentals. Still it got him through well enough on the battlefield and it was noteworthy enough that it threw his whole chart into question. Who on earth had written it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You had to revisit his chart and make the changes you'd discovered. Quickly you pack your books and equipment away and stand to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey hey! Stay for a while," the Counts panicked voice tried to negotiate as it had every day. You stop for a moment. "I have more fun stuff to tell you about if you're interested." He tried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe his heroics were the way to his birdy's heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"While this has been fun, I do have to change your chart if it's wrong." You try to excuse yourself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can't that wait?" He tries hopelessly, but you can't stay any longer. Not after what people had been saying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I have other stuff to do as well…" you excuse lamely. "Gotta report to the Quaestor and...find more asters for my mask...lots of stuff I gotta go." The Count visibly deflates at your leaving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh" he casts his eyes downward like a dog watching his owner leave. You hesitate, unwilling to leave him on such a sad note. He really was lonely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't read very well, but for whatever it's worth...you're an excellent storyteller." You compliment lightly, hoping he can hear you're genuine. Those are the words you leave on, and the Count stares at his hands for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Excellent storyteller huh? He </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> love to hear himself talk. Maybe oral tradition had its merits after all.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave a comment to make me unreasonably happy. They are my only sustenance and vlagnagog hungersssss.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Your change in responsibilities held also a change in the way you were received by your... co-workers.</span>
</p><p><span>Not that you'd been friends with any of them, really, but you were on mutual terms. Your peers walked beside you every morning and you became another beaked face in the crowd. Now, however, when the piercing clang of the iron bell woke you; you were anxious. Somehow word of the Count’s "interest"</span> <span>in you had gotten around, and somehow people thought you were actually having relations with the man. In exchange for gifts of course. Now your morning routine was met with dirty looks and scornful whispers. </span></p><p>
  <span>You dress in silence and gather your things, your back aches from the cot but that's not new. Your sleep is fitful most nights but you slap yourself awake with the thought of tomorrow. The thought that all the suffering will have been worth it. You're well aware of the other people who share your room giving you a wide berth as they start their day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In all it had been only a minor inconvenience, the way they seemed both amused and disgusted by the perceived affair. Avoiding you like the...ah well perhaps that comparison is in bad taste. You don't need to pay attention to them, and they don't confront you. Until their snickers turn to jeers, then thinly veiled insults. You almost make it out of the facility before someone finally works up the nerve to get within ten feet of you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So…" their voice is muffled by their mask and there's several people watching as they approach you. "Where are you going?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You don't respond, waiting patiently for the Quaestor to come unlock the great iron doors to the lift.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey don't be rude" they laugh dryly, looking back briefly to the onlookers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know where I'm going" you sigh at length. "The same place I go every day"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh yeah right? to choke on Lucenzos–"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good morning No. 88" You and the offending medic jump three feet in the air at Valdemar's sudden interjection. You hadn't heard them approach, no one ever does. But they see everything and they can be anywhere so you're pretty convinced they live in the walls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Quaestor" you both acknowledge in frightened unison. They tilt their head at the sight before pulling a red key out of their endless pockets, one of the few that existed. Wordlessly they slide it into the iron lock and it turns with a click. The lack of reprimand makes the other medic grow confident again and they chance another jab.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey Valdemar, I'm pretty sure this one's been exposed" their excitement at your horror-struck face drips into their muffled voice. Valdemar simply tilts their head back towards the speaker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes he has" they muse in their creepy, almost unhinged cadence, "as have I and as have you, such is the nature of working directly with those who have the plague" they sigh. The other medic deflates as you step into the lift, the Quaestor locking the gate behind you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey!" The medic makes a last ditch attempt to humiliate you, having to shout over the grinding of the gears beginning to turn. "You're at least bagging it right? Man's got the </span>
  <em>
    <span>plague </span>
  </em>
  <span>for god's sake!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You close your eyes as the lift begins to rise, far too slowly. You hear their voice fade as they disappear beneath the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's an agonizing moment when you can't hear the grinding gears over the pounding of your heart. Shame and aggravation swell in you and tears threaten to overflow behind your eyes at the sensation. You can't believe people think you would use your position like that, you can't believe you're so worked up over the teasing when you know it isn't true. You can't believe you have to put on a passive face and talk to the count </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span> after the lift ride is over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You miss Julian.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You didn't know him well or long, but he could always make a situation seem funny. He had a banter and charm that could make you laugh at anything, and gods you needed that now. Tears finally broke the threshold of your shuddering eyelids as you thought of how much you missed him. Of how you wished you knew where he was. Of how you wished you weren't alone. Your heavy breathing stirs the old flowers in your beak and you smell the rotting stench of asters gone bad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lift stops rising and the door slides open with the same ominous screech it always does. You step into the library and take a moment to collect yourself, luckily your mask hides any visual evidence of your breakdown. The real trick would be getting through your visit without crying </span>
  <em>
    <span>again.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The fact that you already wanted too made you nervous. Squaring your shoulders you stride down the hall, tears or not you have a job to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>0</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh just accept the damn flowers" the count hissed at your continued refusal. He's referring to a beautiful vase of orange lily's he had sitting on his nightstand. He insisted he got them for you after you mentioned needing more flowers for your mask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can't accept gifts from patients" you reply tiredly, "besides, lily's don't smell strongly enough…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah you wanted asters, right? Can you </span>
  <em>
    <span>believe </span>
  </em>
  <span>they said they couldn't get them here by today? 'they only grow across the sea' or some nonsense. Absolutely incompetent, you deserve so much better dear. What's even across that puddle anyway? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The excuses are–" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Gaoth" you mumble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"–just ridiculous for... what did you say?" He cuts himself off to peer at you where you're checking his feet for proper circulation. You don't answer and simply stare at the red creeping up the skin of his ankles. You aren't in the mood to chat. "Come on, you've been so quiet. Do I leave you speechless? I didn't think you were that into feet, Birdy. Not to say I'm weirded out, it's flattering you–"</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"I said</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em> Gaoth"</em>
  </b>
  <span> You hiss, venomous but not loud. "The kingdom of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gaoth</span>
  </em>
  <span> is across the sea to the east. Gaoth where my family immigrated from, Gaoth, possibly the most famous kingdom in the world you ignorant…" you stop yourself at the look on his face. He stares at you as if you'd slapped him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stare at each other for a moment, you don't think you'd ever seen him look so hurt. Regret tugs at your heart, how could you have snapped at a patient?</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave a comment to make me unreasonably happy. They are my only sustenance and vlagnagog hungersssss.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The bird had such gentle hands, always careful and trusting. His voice was always soft or playful. Always hardly above a murmur. Never this viper hiss he spat at Lucio now. The words flew from his mouth scornfully like one might speak to a rabid possum. Like Nadia might speak to Lucio when he'd bought another pet for his menagerie. Lucio had faced that tone many times before and hadn't blinked, but when it came from the earnest and helpful medic… birdy knocked the wind out of him from his voice alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio was afraid of that sound. More accurately he was afraid of what would push someone with such a long fuse to snap like that. Lucio heard the sound so vividly he didn't even process the words the boy was saying</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Count knew what came next. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>People were nice until Lucios abrasive personality upset them, then they were mean. Scornful and mocking. Even the nicest people Lucio had met ended up hating him in the end. He knew this would happen with Birdy too eventually, but not yet! Lucio needed more time to find what the medic wanted from him, to find something to keep him there. It was the only sure-fire way to get people to stay after they found out they couldn't handle him. He knew what Birdy would do, he would turn hateful and a little disgusted like Jules had. He'd stop being helpful and start staying only as long as he was required. He'd leave Lucio alone with his thoughts again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fear must've shown on his face because birdy's tirade stopped dead. Lucios heart pounded as he racked his brain for anything to say, any last ditch offer to keep the only company he'd had. When he found nothing he felt his fear rise into humiliation that he was trying so hard. That he had to </span>
  <em>
    <span>bribe </span>
  </em>
  <span>someone to hang out with him. He'd been humiliated before and it did what it always did, it turned to anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Lucio I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, you shouldn't have" he responded, the bitterness in his tone making the medic jump slightly in surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's really not your fault, I've just been having a hard time–"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>You've</span>
  </em>
  <span> been having a hard time?" He interrupts suddenly. "I have the </span>
  <em>
    <span>plague, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I'm the one going through the real hardship so maybe you should have a little more sympathy." He pouts angrily, the bird's silence only making him more indignant, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the one who was suffering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You think I'm not sympathetic?" The medic says slowly, voice sounding oddly strained. Lucio had expected him to argue, not knowing what to do he just doubles down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not if you're yelling at me for no reason, I'm really suffering here! Something you would know nothing about." He crosses his arms across his chest and holds back the sudden urge to cough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>0</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You keep a careful silence as the Count accuses you of never knowing hardship. You know he's wrong but you say nothing, you have nothing to prove, it isn't a competition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You really do feel bad for losing your temper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Count is the patient and can't be expected to be the mature one, he's ill and unable to process the world as a healthy person would. He needs you to take care of him, and by the gods that's what you're going to do. Swallowing your sadness and embarrassment you focus only on the patient at hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It won't happen again" you promise, and you're determined to keep the promise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>0</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The birdy's </span>
  <em>
    <span>lying </span>
  </em>
  <span>now</span>
</p><p>
  <span>0</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good" the count snaps, not sounding at all convinced. Nonetheless he switches seamlessly from irritated to teasing as he reaches slowly for your face. "You know...you could make it up to me by showing me your face" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh come on!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not allowed to reve–"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah yeah I know," he dismissed moodily. "But the flowers–"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's inappropriate to accept gifts from the patient"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Geez everything's rules with you" he throws his hands up in defeat. "Give me one good reason!" He challenges.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You think for a moment. Up until now you'd done your best not to intersect your work and personal life, but should he know? It involves him after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"People are starting to talk…" you admit at length. His meticulously kept eyebrows shoot up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh?" The question is unsaid, but obvious all the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There's suspicion that you and I are having...relations" you admit through gritted teeth. You expected him to tease you or something, but you didn't expect his entire face to light up the way it did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh yeah! Wow the rumor actually took off?" He clapped his hands a few times like an excited child, but you feel your stomach drop into your shoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He </span>
  </em>
  <span>caused that rumor?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was the reason no one spoke to you. He was the reason no one would come within ten feet. He was the reason you were harrassed to the point of tears that morning. You don't feel anger, the emotion that swells in you is darker. Sadder and not as violent. The tears that had been threatening to return finally forced their way out, pain and horror bubbling up your throat and pushing against your teeth. It threatens to escape, but you hold in the sob. He can't see you cry so if you do it quietly you might be able to get away with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes…" you answer softly, so not to betray the anguish in your voice. "The rumors spread to the entire facility." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh wonderful. Lucky you huh? Now everyone thinks you're getting some from the most powerful man in Vesuvia."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They think you're giving me stuff" you say dully. "So no...I can't accept your flowers."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's a shame, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am </span>
  </em>
  <span>making some pretty generous offers." He winks and you feel bile rise in your throat at what he says next. "You sure you don't wanna make this a reality?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You swallow the bile, the sadness, the disgust. You couldn't be upset when he clearly didn't understand. Your kindness wasn't conditional and you would remain </span>
  <em>
    <span>professional</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'd appreciate it if you didn't speak to me like that," you decide is a diplomatic enough answer. He scoffs but you continue, this time more genuine. "I only ever talk to you and...you never talk to me like I'm a person."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seems to stop. Maybe it was what you said, or maybe it was the sadness you couldn't force down seeping into your words and making your voice break on the last syllable. He tilts his head slightly in confusion, he doesn't seem to notice he's doing it. Cute, you think numbly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't talk to </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone </span>
  </em>
  <span>else?" He asks with wide eyes. You shake your beaked head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No room for socializing in the facility"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes a face that almost resembles one of guilt before shaking it off. Seemingly unwilling to acknowledge such a feeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well you uh...you're one of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>many </span>
  </em>
  <span>people I talk to" he brags nervously but you aren't fooled. "But out of them you're not the worst company." He finishes with a cough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was that...a compliment? One unrelated to flirting? You feel the smallest most bitter smile tug at the corners of your mouth at the sight of him finally almost sounding genuine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>0</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You're packing up to leave when he stops you again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know... I'm not giving up." He says, trying to sound casual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh yeah?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yep, I'll talk to you 'like a person' or whatever but...I know you'll fall for something. Everyone wants something and I can more than provide." His purr is shameless as he watches you move towards the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know I think those lily's look better brightening up this room, don't you?" You say, unwilling to acknowledge his aggressively waggling eyebrows. The flowers clash horribly with the reds of the room but he doesn't comment on that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh sure, but I'll get those asters yet. You just wait, cause I've only </span>
  <em>
    <span>started</span>
  </em>
  <span> wooing you"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shake your head rapidly as you leave. Forcing yourself not to smile at his antics. As you walk back towards the lift you steel yourself to face the teasing again, to face the horrors of the facility. Lucios haughty laughter bounces in your mind and you feel the lift is brighter. The words of your peers don't ring as loudly.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave a comment to make me unreasonably happy. They are my only sustenance and vlagnagog hungersssss.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lucio had been complaining non-stop for days. </p><p>The strain of trying to walk after almost a year in bed was finally taking its toll on him. </p><p>"Birdy I can't move my legs! And they're on <em> fire!"  </em></p><p>You'd gone up and down the lift at least six times retrieving stronger and stronger pain medicines, you were exhausted. Definitely worsened by the goings on of the day before. Valdemar had insisted they needed more blood for whatever it was they got up to in their chambers, and they graciously left the decision of donor up to a facility-wide vote.  Well there was one recent outcast that everyone was happy to throw under the carriage.</p><p>You remember the pitcher was full to the half-way line between one pint and two pints before you lost consciousness.</p><p>Needless to say you were feeling a bit dizzy, and running around to accommodate the Counts ceaseless demands was not helping.</p><p>"Does it still hurt when you move?" You ask as you spread an orange paste on his calves. </p><p>"Yes, and that smells weird"</p><p>"Stop breathing then" you deadpan, you expect a laugh but instead you receive an exaggerated sigh and a sullen mumbled response.</p><p>"Hurts when I breathe, too...hurts to do anything"</p><p>You already knew he was in pain, that's the thing about the plague, it isn't pleasant. Shaking your head slightly you return to the task at hand. He couldn't lift his legs to try walking today which was a good indication that he needed a break. </p><p>"How about when you blink? Does it hurt then?" You ask slyly.</p><p>"Of course it doesn't hurt to blink!" He snaps, but you don't let up.</p><p>"How about when your heart beats?"</p><p>"Are you serious?"</p><p>"Surely growing your hair is painful"</p><p>"Fine fine point taken" he chuckles. You feel your heart warm at the sound. His laugh is becoming a terribly rare thing. "If you're gonna be a pain then at least give me my comb, I must look like Melchior after being in bed all day.</p><p>With a grin you stand to retrieve his comb from his vanity, you make it halfway there when the spinning starts. Everything starts to tilt to the right and you find yourself wondering if maybe you should sit down. It takes you until you're on the floor to realize it wasn't the world that was tilting. Even there lying on Count Lucio's plush carpet you don't stop falling. The sensation of the sudden drop drags you down down <em> down </em>an invisible drain until all you can see is black.</p><p>0</p><p>Oh great he fell down.</p><p>"Birdy?!" Lucio calls fruitlessly from his bed. His voice scratches in his throat and his lungs burn with the effort of yelling. "Birdy what do you think you're doing?"</p><p>Oh this was just great. The day Lucio is in the most pain and is most in need of his tender little helper the bird up and faints on him. Probably did it to spite him. Ever since the medic snapped at him he'd been waiting for that change of attitude he knew would be coming. Lucio knew the bird didn't like him anymore, so why was he still putting up the act? He didn't know how much pain Lucio was in so there was no way Birdy was doing it for <em> his </em>benefit. </p><p>"If you don't get up by the time I count to three I'm gonna come over there!" He threatens. This little ploy to get out of work was funny but Lucio still needed help. </p><p>"One!" The number was the only sound in the otherwise quiet room. Lucio had grown to hate the quiet so much. Birdy could fill the quiet with concerned questions and dry jokes, but now he was quiet as death.</p><p>"Two" he didn't yell it this time, it was too harsh on his lungs and he was becoming a bit scared of breaking the silence. Was Birdy really going to make him count all the way to three?</p><p>"...three" it was hardly above a whisper. He had said he'd 'come over there' but Lucio was starting to realize he had no way of actually doing that. The weird paste Birdy had given him smelled like tumeric, and it helped the pain quite a bit. Maybe he could move?</p><p>No! Ow ow that definitely hurt ahhh.</p><p>He hissed his breaths through his teeth as he tried to mentally power through the pain. He'd tried to move his legs but they hadn't budged an inch, and they felt like they were being stabbed repeatedly. He looked from his weakened legs to the crumpled body of his only friend and...he felt helplessness creep in.</p><p>Cold and clawing up his neck, making his tongue curl in disgust. He was familiar with this feeling, but it struck harder every time.</p><p>All he could do was wait.</p><p>0</p><p>It took hours for him to finally stir.</p><p>Ok that's not true, it was maybe a minute and a half, but to Lucio it was <em> hours. </em> When the boy finally did start to rise Lucio was immediately rambling.</p><p>"What the heck was that? Why'd you faint? Is that even allowed?" None of these questions were answered as the bird remained seated, seemingly thinking.</p><p>Very very slowly he turned his beaked face towards Lucio and spoke.</p><p>"Must've swooned fur you yur exclinse…." He slurred. Instead of standing to return to the count, he picked up the comb he'd dropped and crawled back. Lucio was just completely lost for how to respond to that out of place joke.</p><p>"You just fell asleep on the floor." He spoke incredulously. Birdy's head shot up with the speed of a meerkats and suddenly he was begging.</p><p>"Please don't tell Valdemar about the slip up, it really wasn't a big deal and it <em> won't </em> happen again ok? One time thing I promise." He held up his gloved hands as he pleaded, words seeming to fall from his masked visage without any control. </p><p>Lucio hadn't thought to tell Valdemar, but that really was scary and if Birdy was ill then maybe it's best if his creepy boss knew about it.</p><p>Then again, Birdy was begging. That meant leverage.</p><p>"I could stay quiet about this…" he teased, "if you do something for me" </p><p>The tension in the room was palpable as the bird's goggle eyes stared him down.</p><p>"Like what?" He asked, hardly above a whisper.</p><p>"Let. Me. See. Your. Face. It's really not a big thing to ask." He punctuated. The bird turned his face to the ground, a hand coming to rest on the fastener that kept the mask secured to his face.</p><p>"It's not a big thing to ask, but I still can't do that, your Excellency." He said sadly.</p><p>"Fine!" Lucio spat, royally sick of this request getting denied. "Then no deal"</p><p>The Birdy sat for a long time before he wordlessly started gathering his things to leave.</p><p>0</p><p>It was only a matter of time, you knew the punishment for sleeping on duty. It was just a matter of time before–</p><p>"No. 137, a word" there it was. Resigned, you followed the Quaestor as they led you away from your dinner.</p><p>"Yes?" </p><p>"I've received a rather disturbing complaint from–"</p><p>"I know my mistake and I know the consequences. It was an accident I will not repeat. I am ready to accept my punishment" you say it robotically, you know with the Quaestor oftentimes the direct route is best.</p><p>"Ah good, that takes the song and dance out of this." They smile serenely. "Sleeping on the job is punishable by losing night-sleeping privileges. Since it was the Count you neglected I think...hmm let's say five days. That seems appropriate." </p><p>You close your eyes in a flinch at the words. It was longer than you expected but it definitely could've been longer.</p><p>You could go five days without sleep...right?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave a comment to make me unreasonably happy. They are my only sustenance and vlagnagog hungersssss.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This next few chapters get kinda gross, gore and whatnot. I'll try to mark where it is. Also more bullying yay.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Turns out there's a lot more hours in the day when you're not allowed to sleep. It's not as if the Quaestor allowed breaks either, twice as much awake time also meant twice as much work time. It was a nightmare at first, but eventually you became grateful for the busywork. It helped keep you conscious. You had to be given a spare key to the lift so Valdemar didn't have to open it for you every time.</p><p>You never drank coffee before because it gave you the jitters. Now you were going to have the jitters anyway so you may as well reap the rewards. You were on your 6th cup of the day when a familiar doctor approached your workstation.</p><p>"So you were sleeping in his room huh?" You felt your stomach turn at the obnoxious voice, or maybe it was the coffee and lack of sleep. How many hours were you on now? Fifty?</p><p>"It's a bit more complicated than that–"</p><p>"Oh so you were <em> more </em> than sleeping" it was another voice this time. You spin around to face the strangers, nearly spilling your coffee. </p><p>## gore ##</p><p>The first one wasn't alone this time, the friends that were watching before now stand next to them. Leaning on your table and trying to hide their snickers. You cast your gaze downward to where your hands are planted firmly on the  tabletop. Blood covered your gloves all the way to the forearm and you weren't even half-way through documenting which skin sample came from which patient. Samples littered the station's surface, checked for color, elasticity, and freshness.</p><p>"What do you gain from this?" You ask quietly. More laughter ripples through the unwanted gatherers at your question.</p><p>"What, we can't just jab a little? You need to learn to take a joke" the original doctor speaks again, masked face turning slightly to their friends for approval. They didn't answer your question.</p><p>"Why are you here?" You try again. You get an exaggerated groan in response.</p><p>"We're here because we work here sweetheart. I know you'd rather be upstairs...how do you say? Digging around for some gold?"</p><p>"Oh oh Lucio!" Someone else starts making exaggeratedly lewd calls. "Oh don't stop! You can pretend I'm Valerius if you want" they hardly get through the sentence with all their snickering. The others break down in laughter soon after.</p><p>You want to throw something at them. You realize you're holding a bucket of random skin samples. Gooey, bloody, vengeful skin samples. Their words bounce around in your head making your lungs freeze and your eyes prick with embarrassment. All it would take is a flick of the wrist.</p><p>But you stay your hand.</p><p>You're already being punished, and covering co-workers in severed skin not only compromises the samples but is also a horrifying health-safety hazard. You don't want to risk giving these people the plague, even if they're begging for it. You must stay silent for too long because their laughter dies down and they're trying to get your attention again.</p><p>"Hey hey! Stop zoning out while you're working. You can get away with that upstairs but down here you actually have to do your job."</p><p>"I wasn't zoning out, I was trying not to throw something."</p><p>"Oh yeah that's what you were doing? You've got a lot of nerve you know"</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"We're down here every day working our asses off to stop this plague and you're off eating caviar and taking naps with the Count. I'm honestly surprised no ones thrown anything at <em> you." </em></p><p>"They have–"</p><p>"Well good cause you should be ashamed"</p><p>You have nothing to say, even if you argue they won't believe you. You watch them meander away and continue staring at the skin in the bucket. You have a feeling you need to be more careful for a while. Buckets of organs might be thrown at you in the future.</p><p>## end ##</p><p>0</p><p>The Count seemed to completely forget about the fainting incident, it had only been 78 hours but you suppose your health shouldn't be on his radar.</p><p>That was until you started...seeing things wrong.</p><p>It started mild, you thought you saw blood on your gloves even though you were certain you'd washed them. Then you started hearing people speaking in the scratch of your quill on your notebook. The world seemed farther away and it was harder to notice things.</p><p>Wait did he say something?</p><p>You'd been staring at your notebook for several minutes before you realized he'd asked a question.</p><p>"Could you repeat that?"</p><p>"I said 'what am I boring you?'" he repeated bitterly. You suppose he had a right to be upset, to him it must look like you're ignoring him. You set your notebook on his nightstand to address him, you notice the candle too late.</p><p>It seems to fall in slow motion off the nightstand and on to the Counts decident bedspread. It lights far too quickly.</p><p>"Oh oh oH NO OK!" You frantically scan the room for something to put it out and come up empty, even the lilies have no water in their vase. The fire spreads and the whole bed is alight. Frantically you realize you're out of options and begin trying to suffocate the flames with your gloved hands. The flames are too quick and you can't hear anything over the fires roaring. You panic desperately for several minutes before you notice something. The fire doesn't feel hot...and there are hands on yours. You look up and find Lucios face, he's saying something but you can't hear it over the fire.</p><p>It's not real. You squeeze your eyes shut and open them, Lucio still seems to be calmly speaking while he's on fire. </p><p>You close your eyes again and try to breathe. When you open them the fire is gone but you still can't hear the count over the roaring sound the fire made. You focus on his lips trying to make out what he's saying.</p><p>You seem to try for hours before the sound slowly quiets enough to hear his voice.</p><p>"It's not real Birdy just look at me, look at me" his voice is far from calm, but it's quiet. You feel embarrassment flush your cheeks as you think of how this must've looked to him.</p><p>"I'm sorry" is all you can say.</p><p>"Yeah I bet, what's your problem?" His concern melts into his signature indignation. You suppose there's no point in hiding it.</p><p>"I thought you...were on fire…" you admit lamely, he raised his eyebrows as you continue. "Hallucinations...because of the incident a few days ago I've lost sleep privileges." You say quietly, voice a croak from your panicked screaming a few minutes ago.</p><p>"Oh...so you're just tired?" He scowls in disbelief. You nod once at the simplified version. He seems to think for a moment. "For how long?"</p><p>"I think I'm on day three right now, but I still have two to go." You shake your head. "Over the hill" you add weakly. Lucio narrows his eyes at the ground, thinking more apparently, before he speaks.</p><p>"That's rough, I guess it's good you're getting punished." He shrugs, you smile a little but your mask hides it.</p><p>"Rough indeed"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave a comment to make me unreasonably happy. They are my only sustenance and vlagnagog hungersssss.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Lucio got a surprising gift today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Birdy had come to his room at the same time he always did, only this time he came bearing a peculiar staff. He explained that it was a cane, and with it Lucio would be able to walk much easier for much longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Needless to say Lucio was not thrilled to have to use a cane like an old person, and he almost turned the bird down cold, but Birdy didn't seem to hear his protests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Birdy seemed to have trouble noticing anything Lucio did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took far too long for Lucio to realize it was because the man still hadn't slept. He swayed where he stood, he flinched at some noises but completely ignored others, he eventually started muttering. Lucio almost wouldn't have noticed the small noise under the bird's mask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Speak up!" Birdy didn't process the request right away, then with a very delayed jump his attention shot back to the count.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Beg pardon?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What are you mumbling?" Lucio was really getting tired of having to repeat himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh uh hmm…" the bird was at a loss for words, something the well articulated man wasn't used to. "I was using numbers"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Using them for what?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah…" he snapped his gloved fingers making a padded sound, trying to remember something. "Counting! I'm counting." Suddenly Lucio burst into a raucous laughing and coughing fit.</span>
</p><p><span>"You </span><em><span>hhck</span></em><span> forgot the word for </span><em><span>koff kof</span></em> <em><span>counting?" </span></em><span>Birdy didn't even seem to have the presence of mind to be embarrassed. He just swayed a bit more before asking a bit too loudly.</span></p><p>
  <span>"Are you in any new pain?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No just the same pain," Lucio grumbled before he remembered something. "But my legs feel better! Look–" he swings himself around and hoists himself up on his cane to stand. The medic doesn't say anything about the bold action, doesn't even move. "See? All by myself now, Birdy" he tries to get him to say something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bird just continues to stare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio seemed to deflate where he stood, he'd hoped to get some reaction. Praise or excitement or even scolding, but Birdy just stared. With a </span>
  <em>
    <span>flouf </span>
  </em>
  <span>he dropped back into his bed, wincing as the sudden fall agitated the constant soreness in his bones and lungs. Birdy stared for a little while longer muttering under his breath. Now Lucio could just make it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"..two hundred twenty-eight... two hundred twenty-nine...two hundred twenty-nine...no thirty…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why are you counting?!" He spat indignantly, but he kinda already knew the answer. It was to help him stay awake. He was that desperate to not repeat his mistake. "Whatever, just get out." He huffed. This seemed to still the bird.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're asking me to leave?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mhm, you're tired, go away." He affirmed. Birdy seemed shocked the count would willingly make him leave, but he gathered his things and departed without complaint. Lucio waited 45 seconds before he hoisted himself back up and moved to follow him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needed to speak with Valdemar again about Birdy's incompetence when he's tired. This time he wouldn't send a messenger, oh no, he had a fancy new walkie stick and he was in the mood for a stroll.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He followed as quietly as he could, which was not very quiet, but Birdy probably wouldn't have noticed a marching band following him judging by how many times he almost bumped into walls. They slowly made their way through the castle and to the library, peculiarly enough. Lucio had never known where the entrance to the research facility was, but he'd never thought it would be amongst these dusty boring books. He was happy for the break from walking as he watched Birdy pull several false books from the shelves to reveal a secret passage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh Lucio loved secret passages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bird made his way numbly down the dimly lit stairs. The count followed at a third the pace, already tired from the walk thus far and having to pay special attention to the steep stairs. He wiped at the sweat accumulating on his face with his non-prosthetic arm and kept going. He finally made it to the bottom seemingly hours later and sat on the steps for a break. His chest heaved and his legs ached and he was beginning to think this was a bad idea. With a resolute huff he pulled himself back up and made his way towards the mysterious structure this room held.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Birdy was nowhere to be seen, probably having arrived here long before Lucio. The only evidence of his passing through was the fact that the poor delusional thing had actually left the key </span>
  <em>
    <span>in the lock</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Ah it was like the universe wanted Lucio to follow. He moved to turn the key but his hand stilled at the words that hung below it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Bloody hands may turn the key. know the weight of your sins, and enter.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Count would never admit just how long it took him to read the sentence, he probably only managed it because the words were so simple. But when the meaning of the sentence finally sank in he felt an unfamiliar cold settle along his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Weight of your sins?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a shaky hand he turned the key and it obeyed without resistance. He felt his stomach drop at the implication.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bloody hands…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a resolute shake of his head he banished the bad thoughts and decided not to think about them. The lift was far too small to comfortably stand in, but he rode it down anyway. He'd come this far and he was not looking forward to walking back up those stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gears ground against each other in a scream so loud Lucio almost covered his ears. The lift came to a sudden, jolting stop that made his teeth rattle. He didn't know what to expect down here, but he didn't expect this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>## blood and kid harm ##</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hundreds of beaked faces just like birdy's flitted about the system of large rooms. Each moving quickly but avoiding each other effortlessly as if it were a choreographed routine. Tables were littered with tools and...worse things...Lucio almost vomited at the sight of one doctor cutting open a live child while several others watched with notebooks. He stumbled slightly from the force of the shock and the disgust and the </span>
  <em>
    <span>smell. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He placed a hand on the wall to steady himself but it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wet. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He pulled the hand back and it was red with what he hoped was blood and not the other miscellaneous visera that painted the facility. His head spun as he tried desperately to consolidate the two images in his head. One of his soft and helpful bird friend, always there with a drink and a joke and a comforting explanation. The other of unfeeling crowlike faces that trudged through the hellscape he stood before.</span>
</p><p>## end ##</p><p>
  <span>He had more to discuss with Valdemar than he thought.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave a comment to make me unreasonably happy. They are my only sustenance and vlagnagog hungersssss.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This whole chapters getting a BIG warning. Not suitable for young audiences, old audiences, any audiences. Just NOT SUITABLE.</p><p>Gore, blood, harm to children, Valdemar (they can be their own warning.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Lucio had been standing there for...ten minutes? Twenty? He was completely frozen to the spot as he scanned the room for Birdy or Valdemar or anyone to explain what the hell he was looking at. He was stuck, unable to move farther into the room or farther out. He remained stuck when he heard an odd snickering behind him. He only processed it vaguely, who could possibly be behind him? Would he even be able to see them in the non-existent light of the underground facility?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Numbly he continued scanning the room and came up empty, with a thoroughly disturbed shake of his head he turned to address whoever thought they could sneak up on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And got a face full of something unholy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A disgustingly warm liquid was dumped over his head and ran down his clothes. He closed his eyes in time but not his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood, blood, </span>
  <em>
    <span>blood it was blood </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>someone just dumped blood on him.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Now there was no avoiding the vomit. His whole body shuddered and crawled in disgust as he felt suddenly both too hot and too cold. Every hair stood up and every breath smelled like blood </span>
  <em>
    <span>tasted like blood </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>metal and bile and blood.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>"AIIIIHHH WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" His scream was without thought, just panic as he desperately wiped at the thick savory substance coating his skin and caking in his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh shit you're not him" the response was hardly processed by the thoroughly traumatized man. The assailants hauled ass fast getting far away and disappearing in the crowd of masks. Leaving Lucio to shake and try not to cry or fall down. Gripping his cane hard he strode angrily into the facility, he'd already been here way too long where the hell was Valdemar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Doctors parted for him but none seemed to realize who he was. None seemed disturbed by him being covered in–no no he wasn't going to think about it. If he ignored it then it wasn't happening. It didn't take long before he started yelling in frustration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"VALDEMAR GET OUT HERE!" No one acknowledged his shouting, as if he were a ghost. "YOU HAVE TEN SECONDS TO–" he was stopped abruptly by a sound. A small sound he shouldn't have recognized above the cacophony of the facility. A sound so sad it made everything else in the dungeon sound distant and unimportant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was crying...not just crying but </span>
  <em>
    <span>Birdy. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio had almost ran right into him. He was one of the medics watching the vivisection. He had both hands gripping so tight to a notebook that they shook, his sniffles were strangled as he stared at the boy on the table. As if he was trying desperately not to be heard. He stood mere inches away from the boy's head. The kid is small and scrawny with the telltale red eyes of the plague. His eyes were as open as his chest was, skin pinned to the table away from his body, Exposing the still moving organs inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy's pain was evident as he looked around wildly, eyes fixing on Birdy and begging.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You..tell me please why?...Where am I supposed to go? Where am I supposed to go..?" His voice was hoarse, perhaps he'd been begging for a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio almost collapsed in relief at finding his bird.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Birdy? What's going on here?" He didn't mean to sound so pathetic but his tears were forcing their way out. Making his lip quiver and his nose start to stuff up. Bird turned so fast he almost smacked Lucio in the face with his beak. His head turned wildly this way and that before finally finding Lucio.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What are you doing down here your Excellency? You can't walk this far."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well I did an–"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh my God…" the bird cut him off with the quietest of oaths. "Is that...blood?" His gloved hand trembled as it came to wipe a little at the count's face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It…" Lucios tears flooded in full force now, he'd tried so hard to forget about the blood part. "I was by the...the lift and I ... someone had a bucket I think…" his sobs stopped his words from being clear and Birdy dropped his notebook on the floor. It lay forgotten as he reached up and pulled Lucio into a hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm so sorry that was me, they were looking for me oh my Gods...I can't believe they did that to you...I'm so so sorry Lucio." He whispered apologies into the count's hair as he stroked his back. Trying desperately to calm the shaken man down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?" Lucio mumbled through his sniffles "it was you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They were looking for me, they warned me and everything. God's you never should've come here." The bird's apologies were earnest, but Lucio found his rattled mind fixating on something. Something wasn't right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why would they...dump blood on you?" He asked slowly, trepidation building on his gut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That doesn't matter, friend. I need to get you back upstairs."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why?" He asked again, trepidation converting slowly to tension.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well…" Birdy pulled away and tilted his beaked face slightly. "They...I told you people were talking about us…" he answered cautiously. Lucio pulled away, the building tension in his gut became fury, shocking his spine and making him snarl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were going to do this to Birdy. They were going to dump blood all over </span>
  <em>
    <span>his Birdy. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His kind, understanding, smart and wonderfully forgiving friend. They were going to hurt him, what if they had before? How long had this torment been going on? How long had people been harassing his companion because the bird was </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice </span>
  </em>
  <span>to him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>0</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who are they, I want names" he grabs you firmly by the shoulders but not enough to hurt as he makes his demands. "I will make them pay Birdy, I will have them hanged. I will have them burned alive." His blood covered face looked manic with anger. In that moment you didn't doubt he was ready to condemn a stranger to death for this. Quickly you shake your head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't even know their names, I just know they think you're giving me stuff and I'm not doing real work so they got mad and started making my life hard. See not a big deal." You're tired and rambling but every word just seems to make him angrier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Where's Valdemar?!" He spits, shaking you lightly once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Their chambers" you answer easily, quickly Lucio grabs his walking stick and stomps his way across the facility in the complete wrong direction. "It's over there!" You call, and he spins on his heel. Continuing his stride as if he hadn't messed up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Picking your notebook off the ground you follow the man who seems to clearly be on a mission.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>VALDEMAR!" The count bangs on the Quaestors door much harder than a sickly man should be able to. You bite your lip and look for anything to distract the count from disturbing the ruthless facility runner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your Excellency, please, you walked a long way to get here. Don't you want to sit down?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's the beauty of adrenaline, birdy" he sneers bitterly, "I haven't felt this good in ages–VALDEMAR SHOW YOURSELF COWARD!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But surely we don't need to bother the Quaestor with this" you try weakly. Lucio rounds on you in sudden concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What? Why are you trying to talk me out of this? Justice, dear!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But I don't want any more trouble." You practically beg. He regards you suddenly like you're a kicked puppy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You...are you afraid of them?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's at that moment that the door swings open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valdemar stands as nonchalant as they always do, but their eyes spell fury. Their mask is pulled down around their chin and their wide-eyed growl promises a heinous death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No. 137" their tone is too collected for their expression. "Why is the count out of bed?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I...he must've followed me Quaestor" you answer quickly, knowing better than to let a question from Valdemar go unanswered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What kind of horror show are you running?!" Lucio interjects. "Blood and knives and...this is terrible and completely your fault!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My fault, you say?" Valdemar's murderous stare turns to Lucio, who's either too angry or too stupid to back down. "Wasn't it you who wanted a cure? Weren't your exact words 'at all costs'?" They dig. Lucio only remains speechless for a moment but it's all Valdemar needs. With a vicious tearing their skin rips to reveal their true form. Angry mangles of bones and teeth and eyes, so putrid and unnatural you have to turn away. Your eyes squeeze shut but it does little to quell the searing pain the image left in your mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The terrible screaming sound they make only lasts a few minutes before you hear a series of dull thuds beside you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No. 137, take the count to his room and return back here immediately." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You open your eyes cautiously. Valdemar is once again in human form and is pulling their gloves back on. Beside you Lucio has crumpled to the floor, expressionless but still alive. Somehow the blood had disappeared from his person.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave a comment to make me unreasonably happy. They are my only sustenance and vlagnagog hungersssss.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When he wakes in his room you were expecting a fight, and you kinda got one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?! Why are we back here?!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Valdemar said–"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm going back down there! They can't get away with–"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And what?" You shoot suddenly. Lucio blinks for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're gonna go back there and...what? Get sent back up here? Get stuck down there? Impede their work even more?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Birdy?" Lucio seemed absolutely gobsmacked that you weren't on his side with this. Carefully you choose your words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The facility is terrible and cruel and against everything that's decent in the world...but it's looking for a cure. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We're </span>
  </em>
  <span>looking for your cure." You try to impress upon him what you mean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There was...blood, and that </span>
  <em>
    <span>kid </span>
  </em>
  <span>and–"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That kid had been alive for a lot longer than many who contracted the plague, we needed to know why."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The people who hurt you–"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"-aren't Valdemar's problem and they can't fix it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>can't fix it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio stared at the bed he sat on for a long time. He wasn't often Lucio was on this side of the moral argument, did he really have no power? Had he grown that ill?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You watch him as he thinks, and a realization dawns on you. It's a slow realization, like reading the final instructions that tie a recipe together. It's the realization that something has happened that will permanently change your doctor-patient relationship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw you at work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You can see it on his face. The blood is gone but the wide-eyed horror remains as he stares blankly at his bedspread. He knows what the facility is like, and you know first hand that once someone sees what goes on down there...they come out different. They'll never see the world the same way. Count Lucio was not the most flexible person you knew, psychologically speaking. He hardly seemed to have the tools to cope with everyday problems, you could scarcely imagine what the existential tragedy of the facility would do to his temperamental headspace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tentatively you step closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your Exc–"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"–stop" his head snaps up to stop you before he averts his eyes, a nervous twist to his lips. "Uh...that was fun for a while but now it just sounds silly." He excuses. You look at the ground for a moment, then resolutely back at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Lucio?" You try, he says nothing. "Are you ok telling me what you're thinking about?" You ask calmly. You're far from a psychologist but he can't just be left to deal with this alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why?" His question is so trusting, he knows you'll answer anything to the best of your ability.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think…" your sleep deprived mind is still swimming but this ordeal has sobered you up considerably. "Uh I don't think we've been on the same page about things and I wanna help you." Is all the clarity you can manage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No!" He practically jumps off the bed in his haste. "You can't help me! I mean you already helped me! I mean...you" he takes a breath and smiles nervously through his sweating. "Why don't you tell me what</span>
  <em>
    <span> you're </span>
  </em>
  <span>thinking about this time."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your mind works slowly through the exhaustion and you manage to understand his sentence in a record six minutes. When you finally do process it you're still a bit lost. What </span>
  <em>
    <span>you're </span>
  </em>
  <span>thinking about? Well all you've thought about is how he's going to handle this. How he's going to deal with the definite trauma that comes with being covered in blood, or the betrayal of his Courtier turning into a visceral monster, or poor Ryan on the vivisection table. You must say you'd never seen him so patient as he waits for your response. Response to...oh yes what you're thinking. What are you thinking? Seems all you ever think about is him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence fills the room and you watch as his face slowly turns red, like watching a bruise slowly rise on the skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course…" he says it as a whisper to himself, not to you. His expression changes a lot too, blushing to smiling to bewildered to on-the-verge-of-tears to smiling again. Finally his expression settles to one of tentative curiosity. His eyes raise to meet yours through your mask and he asks barely above a breath. "Why?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?" You've completely forgotten the question by this point. Probably best to start counting again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Even with everything…going on" he waves his hands above his head to encompass 'the situation in general' "why are you still... thinking of me?" He finishes. You stare for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Because I care about you?" What an odd question. Isn't it obvious? You even have to admit to yourself at this point that he's become more than a patient to you. His relentless self confidence and optimism charmed you in a way you couldn't quite describe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>fifteen, sixteen, seventeen.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You wanted to see him improve, you wanted to see him happy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right now he looked dumbstruck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You care about me like...like a patient?" He asks nervously, you don't think you'd ever seen him trying so hard in a conversation. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Twenty-two</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>twenty-three. </span>
  </em>
  <span> that's kinda funny, he just asked exactly what you just figured out. You shake your head lightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> have feelings for me?" He puffs himself up slightly but you shake your head again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I care about you like a guy I wanna see happy because he's great at being himself even though he's sick, and super good at making me feel like my life could be better even though it's super shitty right now" you may have slurred some of those words but you're pretty sure you got your point across. Were you at twenty-nine? No thirty-nine?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He suddenly falls backwards into the bed, nearly hitting his head on the headboard. You can't help but wonder if there's some tone to this conversation that you're missing. Something you can't put together because you're too tired. No it was thirty-two! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why won't you just resent me already!" He hissed suddenly at the ceiling. You pout a little at losing your trail of numbers again, but you suppose there are more pressing matters at hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why would I do that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Because I'm too loud and authentic for anyone to really like me" he accuses venomously, or it would be venomous if your muddy head could process anything beyond a vague interest. "Everyone finds out eventually that I'm too much to handle and they always get pissy and blame me for it, so what are you waiting for?" His outburst seemed to be more out of fear than any frustration at you. With a small chuckle you realize it all clicks in your head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, you're nervous I'll stop caring because you're obnoxious." You say lightly. "Why didn't you just say so?" You don't get people sometimes, why don't they just say things? He tries to sit up dramatically but fails when his muscles give out. That long walk must finally be catching up to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I am not </span>
  <em>
    <span>obnoxious!</span>
  </em>
  <span>" He needlessly defends, you shake your head slightly. Now that you know what he means there's no more need for these puzzles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I am not going to stop caring just because you aren't always pleasant. No one's </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>pleasant. I want you to be happy and there aren't "conditions" tied to it, yaknow?" You pick at your gloves absent-mindedly. "You don't owe me anything for it".</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, now that that's out of the way you should probably get back downstairs. Valdemar said something about coming right back and you definitely don't want to get in any more trouble. You place Lucios cane where he can reach it before making your way to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your sleep drunk state somehow missed the look of complete malfunction that had taken up residence on the Counts face.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave a comment to make me unreasonably happy. They are my only sustenance and vlagnagog hungersssss.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You look tired, Birdy" Lucio commented suddenly, you were taken off guard by the out of place exclamation. You were just about to leave when the count hit you with the obvious.</p><p>"So?" You responded dully, careful not to let on how deep your fatigue truly ran.</p><p>"So...you should take a nap" he rolled onto his stomach and gave you a wink. You stared at him for a good minute, this was an odd turn in attitude. His face fell as if he'd read your mind. "Look I just...kinda feel yucky about getting you in trouble. Working in a place like that, you'd need to collapse once in a while."</p><p>Something had changed, you realize distantly, like a switch flipped. Like the facility never happened he'd switched back to his regular flirty self. No not regular...he wasn't fishing anymore, wasn't trying to trap you.</p><p>His face spoke to more than a game, it seemed almost desperate to keep you in the room. To keep you close to him. You'd blush if you had any spare blood to do it with, unfortunately all of it was in your legs trying to keep you standing.</p><p>"Intentionally sleeping on the job is grounds for termination" you parroted and he pulled back his lips in a grimace, eyes narrowed.</p><p>"But you're <em> always </em> on the job, and you look like death" he whined. You wracked your brain for a way to explain why you couldn’t just forgo your punishment. No simple explanation came, when he quirked an eyebrow at your silence you realized too late that not answering was just as bad. A sigh escaped your lips before you could stop it. You didn't have the energy to be angry at him and even if you <em> did </em> you don't think you would've been. He stared for a moment, face tense and avoiding eye contact as he tried to reason a way where the punishment wasn’t actually his fault.</p><p>"5 days huh?" He said at length, you nod once. "So today’s the last one?" he wiggled his meticulously shaped eyebrows.</p><p>"I thought you were on fire the other day" you deadpanned a reminder, staring him down. After a moment he barked a few sharp laughs.</p><p>"Yeah that's not a good sign" he remarked between cackles. "Here, you need sleep, lay down" he patted the bed beside him. For a second you thought you'd imagined the gesture, was he mad?</p><p>"You're delusional" you drawled blandly as he continued beckoning you.</p><p>"Only for you sweetheart" he rolled his shoulders in a way he must've thought was seductive before flying into a hacking fit. "<em> Koff ah ehem </em> ...don't look at me– <em> hhakkk!" </em></p><p>"Slick" </p><p>"<em> Cech </em> alright just– <em> cechkeck– </em>lay down already"</p><p>"I'm not going to do that" you rolled your eyes.</p><p>"Oh come on, who's gonna know?" He teased. You felt your eyes sting from the effort of keeping them open and began to realize...you might not be able to resist that offer. "How about this..." he sat up, loose night shirt falling open and exposing his chest a bit. "Just sit with me" he patted the bed invitingly, a deceptively innocent smile graced his lips.</p><p>You couldn't, no matter how soft the mattress looked or how enviting the blankets you couldn't <em>couldn't </em>sit on that bed. Your bones were weary and your legs were hardly holding you but there was no way you could get away with sleeping in your patient's bed. But a small voice whispered the other facts to you.</p><p><em> They already think you do </em>.</p><p>Your mind flew back to the facility, where your peers sneered and mocked you. They'd do the same of you returned right now, they'd do the same if you never returned at all. As the days progressed you felt ill at how close to the truth their jeers were getting. In the end Lucio was the only one who'd spoken to you with any kindness. </p><p>Your aching legs and pounding head begged you to accept. You hadn't sat down in... fourteen hours? With all the counting you'd been doing numbers were starting to blur together. Your breathing was difficult from the strain of being awake and you began to think of what this punishment was doing to you. Your heart was pounding and your reflexes were non-existent. Your memory was completely shot...</p><p>Slowly, almost against your will, you felt your knees lower onto the impossibly plush mattress. The silkiest sheets you'd ever felt in your life met your skin and you sighed audibly from the relief. No longer needing to <em> stand. </em> You crawled farther onto the bed and ignored the way Lucios smile grew wider, and his laugh was disgustingly smug. In his mind he'd won. You were only sitting down, you told yourself, nothing more. With his only organic hand the Count pushed your shoulder so you lied flat on the mattress.</p><p>"Hey…" you protested softly. His weakened arms weren't particularly hard to fight, but you were just so <em> tired. </em>The mattress met your back like heaven itself, sore spots and tension melting away. Lucio watched you in obvious relish as you practically melted into the plush surfaces. Finally finding respite after days without rest.</p><p>"Comfy?" He asked, but it wasn't smug or mocking. He searched your form wanting to make sure you were as comfortable as possible. </p><p>"I won't sleep" your answer was determined, he thought for a moment.</p><p>"I could <em> make </em> you tired" he teased, quirking an eyebrow suggestively.</p><p>"I've told you that's entirely inappropriate–"</p><p>"I'm not just flirting" again you saw that startling seriousness in his eyes. "I could make you feel very <em> very </em> good, Birdy. Something tells me you're not very experienced in it" his fingers traced tantalizingly down your collar, reaching to fiddle with the buckle that held your mask on.</p><p>"Lucio..." Your voice sounded distant to your own ears as you tried to deflect his shameless words, softly he continued.</p><p>"Don't worry about getting in trouble, love, I won't tell a soul I promise." He was practically pleading as his hand drifted off your shoulder and lower to tease your stomach and sides. You squirmed from the unexpected caress, you hadn't realized how touch-starved you'd become all alone in your work.</p><p>"I don't know…" your sleep-fogged mind could neither accept nor refuse. You couldn't think straight under his intense red gaze and the heavy blanket of exhaustion. You couldn't weigh the best course of action. After a long pause where he seemed to be talking himself into something he took his hand away from you. Instead he lied beside you and shifted closer. Just far enough away that the two of you had no physical contact. He pulled the impossibly soft comforter around the two of you and whispered close to your ear.</p><p>"Get some sleep then, you deserve to be awake for that."</p><p>That's all you remembered before blissful, traitorous sleep claimed you.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave a comment to make me unreasonably happy. They are my only sustenance and vlagnagog hungersssss.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Lucio was practically on fire with the need to touch the sleeping medic. Birdy's forever-tense posture and guarded tone had given way completely to the comfort of the counts bed. His hair splayed recklessly over the pillows and his breaths were deep and restful. Lucio found himself having to continuously talk himself into staying still. He wouldn't do anything while the man slept, he more than deserved the rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He'd always found the medics kind gestures and youthful voice incredibly attractive, but now it was different. Lucio hadn't managed to sway the bird with money or heroics, but somehow, </span>
  <em>
    <span>somehow</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he still cared. He stayed and thought of Lucios well-being even though he had nothing to gain. Even though he had plenty to </span>
  <em>
    <span>lose </span>
  </em>
  <span>by showing the count such decency. As if something in Lucios mind finally snapped upon the revelation that the bird was there for </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>and nothing else…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly every inch that separated them was a million miles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly Lucio could think of nothing else but having this person closer to him so he could never leave again. The bird's naive care for someone with nothing to offer was inconceivable to the Count. Completely outside of the realm of anything he could have considered. All at once he'd stumbled across a miracle of a human, and he couldn't let him leave. If he left he'd go back to that </span>
  <em>
    <span>place. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That underground hole that would crush a good spirit like him. Lucio was never good with people so he couldn't fathom how he stumbled across a gem in a wasteland, but he was determined to keep the bird safe. So he never loses that spark, that faith, that uncompromising compassion in the face of terrible cruelty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio drew the covers closer around himself and his miracle, hating the sun outside for beginning to set. Hating it for daring to turn away from a sleeping saint and leave him in the dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy was unlike any Lucio had ever met, unlike any he could ever be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Birdy jolts suddenly and Lucio almost falls out of bed in fright. What is it?! What's wrong? Is he uncomfortable? Is he in pain? Is he having a bad dream? Lucio leans closer, careful not to touch and listens to sweet birdy's breathing. It's shallow and harsh before slowly settling back into a steady deep pattern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That's right Birdy sleep now. He'll kill any bad dream that plagues you. Sweet man who faces such hardship and still stays kind, still sees the best in him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why does that affect him so much?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucios immediate reaction is to shut down the questioning thought. His feelings are confusing him and he tried to hide behind intimacy but Birdy was far too tired to think straight. Now he's alone in the quiet again and thinking means pain, thinking means all kinds of emotions he's not ready to face. Emotions he doesn't want to face. Why does he need to know why? Can't he just ignore it and it will go away? He looks again to his restful bird and watches him sigh lightly in his sleep. Lucio feels an odd sense of pride that he was able to provide such comfort after days of being unable to lie down. Possibly months of being unable to sleep away from the horrors of that dungeon. Birdy the question is still there, why? Why does your kindness make him so helpless? Why does he suddenly need you near him? Need you on his side?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What would you do bird? What would you say?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You'd ask what he's thinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You'd tell him to say what he means and accept what he thinks. You'd tell him to tell you everything and you'd help him make sense of it. Slowly Lucio realizes...Birdy hadn't been a distraction from the thoughts, he's been helping him through them. Building up the strength to face them on his own, just like he did to help Lucio walk. With a jolt of his own Lucio feels unexpected tears prick at his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What?! Why was he suddenly about to start sobbing? What had the bird done to him to turn his whole world upside down in a matter of minutes? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why was he so affected by this?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There the question was once again, the one he'd been avoiding the whole time. Why did birdy's kindness make him so...so… what even was this feeling?!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ok he's panicking, he didn't know when it started or why but now he was panicking and he couldn't even tear himself away from his sleeping bird long enough to freak out properly. His whole body felt too hot and his breaths came in pants...what caused this? He could almost hear the bird in his mind telling him to answer the question. Why was this happening? Birdy's voice in his mind was calm and soft...just one step at a time, it cooed. Just take a step, if you don't you never will. If you stop you'll lose the ability.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carefully he thought back, something he avoids most often. He thought back to when the bird first came into his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He'd tried to buy the bird's affection. Birdy had snapped at him! But he was being ruthlessly harrassed at the time...for a rumor </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lucio </span>
  </em>
  <span>had started. He felt a cool blade twisting his gut but still he continued. One step down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next Bird fell asleep on the floor... but who wouldn't if they had to work in a place like that? He was probably already missing sleep, and Lucio tattled like a petulant child. Because Birdy wouldn't take off his mask and risk his life. The knife twisted farther and Lucio felt his tears finally breach his eyes. He hadn't expected to cry </span>
  <em>
    <span>twice </span>
  </em>
  <span>today, but it was another step down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Birdy had gotten harshly punished because of Lucios spite, and no doubt the people teasing him heard about the incident. Oh it probably didn't go over well when word spread that Birdy had fallen asleep here. Finally a sob left him as he remembered just what those devil's had in store for his poor bird, he could still feel the trickle of warm liquid running down his neck and raising goosebumps on his spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where had that blood come from? Was it from the plague patients? Would they have actually exposed Birdy to the plague like that? And through all of it Birdy was helping him walk, helping him read, helping him get better and never once thinking of himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was the last step.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucios eyes flew open and his heartbeat steadied. That was why it made him so sad and happy and scared and guilty at the same time. It was the difference.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When something awful happened to Lucio he begged for sympathy, casting the hardship on anyone who would listen. But Birdy...he took it all in stride because he knew Lucio came first. Because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>cares. </span>
  </em>
  <span>No one had ever cared so much about Lucio, to the point it became detrimental to Birdy's own wellbeing. How far would Birdy have gone? How far would Lucio let him go? And in the end...Lucio could never do it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made him feel so much because Lucio could never do what Birdy was doing. The very idea that it was possible threw him through such a loop that he had a full panic attack in his own bed. He could never imagine the mind of someone willing to make such sacrifices. Willing to be so caring towards a someone who, up until today, had only made his life harder and sometimes hit on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio couldn't understand this, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn't </span>
  </em>
  <span>comprehend how the bird could live with such hardships and still treat Lucio with more kindness and respect than anyone he'd ever known. Lucio laid there and cried over what he could never understand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wiped his tears and made a promise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obviously the only explanation was that he couldn't be a regular person. Some way, somehow, Lucio had found an actual angel to help him. He didn't know who the angel was sent to help but Lucio must've intercepted him before he got there, and he was not letting him go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made a promise to keep this kindness safe. To be someone who is worth wasting an angel on. He never wanted to hear the crying he heard in the facility, when that boy was...no he wouldn't let that happen. Never would he take this blessing for granted like he had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt his eyes beginning to drift shut as he sorted out his thoughts and feelings for what was probably the first time in his life. The guilt and sadness was still there, and it left him raw, but it was a good sign if physical therapy had taught him anything. He knew from both learning to walk again and learning to use his prosthetic all those years ago that the pain had to happen for the strength to return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt sleep pulling at his consciousness but he wouldn't give in. If his bird were to get as much rest as he deserved then he had to stay awake. He had to make sure Valdemar didn't come looking for him. He had to make sure nothing disturbed his Bird. Sleep was more persuasive than he thought and it fought him like a stormy ocean. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Was this how you felt?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He thought numbly to himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>All those days of nonstop work for that facility? ...nonstop caring for me?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head and focused on the rise and fall of birdy's chest, this smallest of sacrifices was the least he could do for the bird who saved his life. Slowly he counted each of the boy's breaths.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One, two, three...</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave a comment to make me unreasonably happy. They are my only sustenance and vlagnagog hungersssss.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Time to wake up, before the bell can toll. The iron bell tolls every morning to raise the day shift medics for their shift, and it's a blessing to wake up before it once in a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clannnggg!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Like lit gunpowder you shoot from the silk sheets of the counts bed. The bell still rings in your ears but the sun outside tells you it's past noon, there's no way the bell's actually what woke you. No no no you can't be sleeping! You still have another day to your punishment, and Valdemar told you to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>right back.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The evening before returns to you in pieces as Lucio rises slowly to placate you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good morning my bird, did you sleep well?" His voice is kind, if a bit timid. He places a hand on your shoulder like touching you is his only life line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I slept here?!" Your words break in terror at what you'd gotten into. Valdemar will have your head and your other limbs packed neatly in newspaper for this. Quickly you scramble to your feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Where are you going? I need you here" The words the count throws at you only make you panic more. You slept in his bed, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>slept </span>
  </em>
  <span>in his </span>
  <em>
    <span>bed. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tears pricked your eyes and you actually fell to your knees with grief as thoughts of what would come next filled your vision. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valdemar would find out and lengthen your punishment. They'd have you doing the vivisections instead of just watching. That is if they didn't fire you altogether. Lucio would no doubt brag about having you so close and that would only worsen the animosity from your peers. He wouldn't even understand the consequences because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>thinks of the consequences. You tremble at the crossroads you face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Valdemar doesn't fire you then your impossibly dark living situation will worsen to unbearable degrees. If they do fire you...you have to return to the populace where you'll surely catch the plague yourself. You'll die in the street or on the Lazaret knowing in the end all of it had been for nothing. You'll die and leave Lucio to his fate forgotten in his room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You wish you could sink into the carpet when suddenly an arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio had pulled himself off his bed and now sits on the carpet with you. Rubbing your side softly and looking absolutely like he has no idea what he's doing. The sight of him isn't a comfort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your memory conjures the last image from the evening before. Lucio pushes you into the bed and tempts you to sleep, to disobey Valdemar and forgo your punishment. The image twists angrily in your mind as hungry red eyes scan your exhausted body and teasing hands beg for purchase. You feel yourself shudder at the thought of what you </span>
  <em>
    <span>don't </span>
  </em>
  <span>remember. What he might've done while you slept. What he may want in exchange for his silence. Your fear turns rotten as you shove his attempt at comfort away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't touch me" your voice shakes like a leaf in the wind and he draws back immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry I'm not good at comforting people" he defends, but you can't process the words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did you take off my mask?" You ask suddenly, voice refusing to obey you. He looks taken aback for a moment before whispering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Liar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know you did, it's all you've tried to do" you shiver more, breaths coming in violent heaves. His eyes widen and he seems to finally see your distress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No no Birdy I'm not doing that anymore" he urges. "You don't have to show me your face"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Unless I want you not to tell, right?" You sob, you should've known to resign yourself to this from the start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No!" He panics even harder at your crying, but you're already standing to leave. "You don't have to do anything! Your secret is safe, I promise"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hear his empty promise and feel only pity. He's trying again to make you feel safe, to keep you near him. After so long alone you can't even blame him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I have to go, if I stay any longer Valdemar will fire me" you manage a strangled explanation as you stumble towards your door. He tries to follow but falls back, human arm reaching out to you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Birdy please don't leave crying." He practically begs. "How can I convince you I don't want anything in return? I won't tell anyone and I'll make </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure </span>
  </em>
  <span>you aren't punished" he promises more, but his promises are always hollow. Always a ploy to make you stay just a moment longer. You really wish you could, but you're long out of time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a final shake of your head you throw his door open and sprint down the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>0</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Bird goes from peaceful to frightened in mere moments. He sits bolt upright in bed and whips his beaked face around wildly. Carefully Lucio puts his words together to not frighten his angel farther. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good morning my bird, did you sleep well?" Lucio tries to sound casual but the itch to touch him is still so strong. Cautiously he puts a hand on the birds shoulder</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I slept here?!" His words have hardly left his mouth before he's on his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Where are you going? I need you here" the count speaks before thinking. His fear blinds his words. The bird stands unspeaking for a few moments before his knees seem to give out beneath him, dumping him unceremoniously on the carpet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio watched as the boy's entire body slowly began to tremble. His hand comes up to brace against his forehead as he stares unseeing at the floor. Lucio takes a moment to just watch the poor bird. He can't even take a nap without thinking himself selfish. Lucio was never good at comforting people, but he knows that when he's feeling upset he wants a hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His legs aren't obeying him, probably due to the brutal walk yesterday, but he remains determined. Grabbing the edge of the bed he drags himself over. Landing with an undignified thump on the floor below. The Birdy doesn't seem to notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coming up behind his bird he wraps an arm snugly around his waist and pulls him in close. He hopes the bird can tell how sincere he is, how hard he's trying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio rubs absent-minded circles into the boy's skin as he tries to convey security. It's ok you slept sweet bird, you needed the rest. I'll make it ok again. Slowly the bird turns his masked face to look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio can't see his expression, but his entire body tenses at the sight of the count. His breathing stops for several seconds and suddenly he's pushing Lucio away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't touch me" the bird sounds like pain itself and Lucio flinches away at the demand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry I'm not good at comforting people" he defends, but bird interrupts him before he can continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did you take off my mask?" Lucio stills at the accusation. Why would he be concerned with that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know you did, it's all you've tried to do" a shudder runs through Birdy's whole body and his breathing becomes heavy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh no...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No no Birdy I'm not doing that anymore" Lucio begins to panic as it finally clicks. Last time Birdy fell asleep Lucio promised not to tell under the condition that the boy takes off the mask. "You don't have to show me your face" he tries to defend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Unless I want you not to tell, right?" Oh shit oh no no he's sorry for that!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No!" Birdy's crying now and it sends a hot axe right through Lucios heart. "You don't have to do anything! Your secret is safe, I promise" he's actually begging now for a chance to explain himself. Oh Birdy...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I have to go, if I stay any longer Valdemar will fire me" No! He's leaving! Lucio tries with all his strength to stand and follow, or even crawl, but his traitorous legs won't move. He falls back in defeat and stretches one arm towards his retreating bird.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Birdy please don't leave crying." He has to say everything now, before the bird leaves him alone again. "How can I convince you I don't want anything in return? I won't tell anyone and I'll make </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure </span>
  </em>
  <span>you aren't punished" his words tumble out of him and he swears by every one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a final shake of his head the bird flings open the door and bolts away, leaving it swinging in its hinges. Lucio curls into a ball right there on the carpet and feels the guilt creeping in. So many accusations and all of them deserved.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave a comment to make me unreasonably happy. They are my only sustenance and vlagnagog hungersssss.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Every time someone yelled near you you jumped.*</p><p>You always expected it to be the Quaestor, pulling you aside to punish you for your disobedience. Or one of your tormentors, demanding you acknowledge their accusations. </p><p>But the fallout never came.</p><p>You managed to get someone to fill in checking on Lucio, the last thing you were in the mood for was more of his begging you to stay. Not to mention with the latest complications you were expecting to be pulled off that assignment for good any day now.</p><p>But days past and... nothing.</p><p>Eventually you couldn't keep making no. 062 substitute, you could avoid the count no longer.</p><p>Riding the metal lift up as you'd gotten so used to doing, you stretch your arms over your head. After the impossible softness of the counts bed, the cots in the facility were near unbearable by comparison. You still slept there without complaint, but your neck and shoulders ached each morning in protest.</p><p>The walk to his room was as uneventful as ever, though it smelled worse. After the Asters in your mask rotted beyond recognition you had to throw them out and you still hadn't gotten a chance to get new ones. Now you could smell old blood in the dank staircase leading to the library. At least you hope it was the staircase, if you were the smells origin you were loathe to think how the count even put up with such a stench. Much less relentlessly pursued you through it.</p><p>Shaking your head you come to his door and hesitate as you did the first day.</p><p>Will he beg more? Will he hate you for abandoning him? Will he want an explanation? Swallowing the lump in your throat you open the door.</p><p>0</p><p>Lucio stared impatiently at the door.</p><p>He didn't know who the crow was that had been checking on him in his birdy's stead, and frankly he didn't care. It never even occurred to him to ask to see their face, or to try to strike up a conversation. It never occurred to them to ask him if he could walk. All he did was wait and stare at the door. For the last couple days his patience had been rewarded with disappointment, but he never once doubted that Birdy would come back. His bird cared about him, and he wouldn't just abandon him.</p><p>So today he waited and stared at the door, just like yesterday and the day before. He didn't bother to steady his breathing when the handle started to turn. He hated the phrase "don't get your hopes up", he'd get his hopes as high as he damn pleased thank you. High hopes proved you're alive, not just a mummy left to rot in a room.</p><p>So with high hopes he watched the handle turn and the door stay shut in a very familiar hesitation.</p><p>0</p><p>You open the door to find saucer-sized red eyes are already upon you. Lucio leaps off the bed immediately, grabbing his cane and hobbling as fast as he can physically manage in your direction.</p><p>"Birdy! You came back," he throws his arms around you before you even cross the room's threshold. His cane clatters to the ground, forgotten as he leans all his weight on you. Metal arm careful not to squeeze you too tight around the middle.</p><p>"It's my job" you try to sound neutral, but you fail. Your arms circle his shoulders to return his hug, your sentence breaks as you feel his hair brush your neck. </p><p>You missed him.</p><p>"Bird" he pulls away, looking you frantically up and down. "Have you been punished? Is that why you haven't been here? I'm so sorry Birdy really, I tried to tell them it wasn't your fault. I should've known that shifty doctor would go against me–"</p><p>"Woah!" You hold him by the shoulders and steady him. "Actually no one's said anything, it's like it never even happened" you placated, but Lucio just looked more confused.</p><p>"Like it didn't happen? But...but then where have you been? Why'd you send that crow to check on me?"</p><p>"Crow, what..? Oh! You mean no. 062." You stoop to retrieve his cane from the floor for him. He remains silent, expecting you to continue. When you don't he just grows more agitated.</p><p>"You didn't answer any of my questions."</p><p>"I didn't? Well I don't know 062 well but she was the only one who let me approach her about filling in for me. I don't think she believes the rumors about me–"</p><p>"Not that one" he levels you with a typically impatient stare, but the intent behind it is forign. He isn't usually the straight-forward one.</p><p>"I'm getting there" you say at length. "What I was saying is that she's a very accomplished doctor and I sent her here because I knew she'd be nice to you."</p><p>You pause to gauge his response, but he doesn't give you one. He simply sits on his bed and steeples his fingers. Nervously you continue.</p><p>"She...well I didn't want you left alone again just because I was having issues." </p><p>You pause again but he just stares some more.</p><p>"I thought I was going to be <em> fired, </em>Lucio. Or at the very least taken off this assignment. I had to make sure you weren't going to be mistreated cause…" </p><p>You're starting to tear up under his intense gaze, you don't know if he's ever gone so long without saying anything. Your voice is cracking as you continue your explanation.</p><p>"I didn't know when I'd be allowed to see you again or if I'd <em> ever </em>see you again… and I couldn't live with myself if you were left with an awful doctor because of my mistakes. I felt so helpless Lucio…"</p><p>You think you may have gone off track, but that long since stopped being the point of the explanation. Now words were pouring out of you. You were pacing and gesturing with the cane as you spoke.</p><p>"I don't know what people are gonna say or what's gonna happen cause you always make it worse and you don't even know you're doing it. I can't blame you for that because you're just <em>like </em>that and I really like that <em>about</em> you. So I did as much as I could in case I couldn't come back, and I avoided you because I left in such a rush the other day and that probably hurt your feelings. Then I thought maybe you deserved it, but that's a horrible thing to think. I don't want to hurt your feelings but you've really hurt me multiple times, but you didn't <em>know </em>you were doing it and it's not like you could've fixed it."</p><p>You drop the cane on the ground and turn back to where he still stares at you. His expression hasn't changed.</p><p>"I...I'm just so tired and I miss you so...here I am" you end lamely. Gesturing vaguely to yourself with your palms up.</p><p>Is he angry? Relieved? Indifferent? The red eyes fixed on yours reveal nothing.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*and every time we kiss I swear I could flyyy</p><p>Please leave a comment to make me unreasonably happy. They are my only sustenance and vlagnagog hungersssss.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You stare at each other for what feels like centuries. Has he always had that slight arch to his brow? Why is his gaze so much steadier than usual? Is his skin as soft as it looks?</p><p>Perhaps some thoughts are out of place.</p><p>It takes a moment of silence before he speaks up.</p><p>"Is...that everything?" His voice squeaks a bit but he quickly corrects it. </p><p>"Everything?"</p><p>"Everything that's been, uh, on your chest?" He smiles nervously. You nod a bit, cheeks coloring at just how much you'd said. "Ok, good" He says awkwardly. You stare at him for a solid minute.</p><p>"What's with you?" You ask, suddenly confident again now that you've aired everything out. He looks around wildly before answering.</p><p>"What's with me? There's nothing going on with me I just thought you...needed to vent?" He tries.</p><p>"You thought about someone other than yourself?" You shoot playfully. He opens his mouth to respond before closing in with a puckered pout.</p><p>"Ok fine you got me, I haven't been the best listener or whatever. But I have the plague so my mind's been kinda on me lately" he grumbles. You roll your eyes but naturally he doesn't see it.</p><p>"What caused the change of heart?"</p><p>"Isn't it obvious?" His look of indignation is beyond comical, but you stifle your laughter. "You did" He proclaims practically breathless. A huge, starstruck smile spreads across his face.</p><p>"You're so caring and forgiving, Birdy. I don't know how you do it but I'm not going to give up on you now. If you can work in that hell hole and still find the energy to take care of me, then I can listen to you rant a little."</p><p>He stops his proclamation with a wink and a winners grin, but you don't respond. You just stare at him, mimicking a certain trick you just fell for. It takes him several seconds but he picks up on it eventually.</p><p>"Ah so it's my turn...ok...well you see Birdy things haven't been as great here as I've led you to believe." You almost laugh again, his incessant whining and obvious fear of abandonment was him making his situation look good? To spare your feelings?! "In reality it's been...really really rough."</p><p>His voice drops from his usual theatrics to a more natural tone.</p><p>"Noddy hasn't visited me, and I'm convinced her and the staff are pretending I'm already dead. They just can't wait until they don't have to deal with me any more." His tone is sad yet he's still smiling.</p><p>He looks at you to see a reaction but your stare holds strong. </p><p>"I was so scared and every day the fear got worse...until you walked into my life." You knew you had helped him, but the way he said it made your heart flip into your mouth. </p><p>He said it with the reverence that one would have for the divine.</p><p>"You actually believed that I could read, and you've been helping me walk. I don't tell you enough how much I appreciate being able to walk again." He smiles at the ceiling, practically forgetting he's actually saying this <em> to </em> someone.</p><p>"You were so patient with me, and I completely screwed you over. Usually it doesn't bother me when I screw people over but...I don't think I've ever met someone who deserves it less than you."</p><p>"When you left in tears I knew I had to fix it. I tried so hard to smooth things over after you slept here the other day. I demanded to see Valdemar and told them if they did anything to punish you then they'd be fired and blacklisted. I told them you answered to me now, I told them to fire the jerks who were throwing blood around down there. I did a lot of firing Birdy! And even after that I was so worried you thought I would get you in trouble. Bird I never ever ever wanted to hurt you."</p><p>"The truth is, no one has ever been so kind to me as you have, not even before I was sick. Your visits have been my only comfort and…" he stops to reword his next sentence a few times before speaking. "I want...you visiting me to be...a comfort for you too" he decides. </p><p>"Oh...I see" you try to keep the emotion from your voice, but it still seeps in. You cough the tone from your voice and try to compose yourself. "I'd like that a lot" you say finally. Lucio seems to let out a breath. "Should we take a look at those vitals and then... discuss this more?"</p><p>0</p><p>Vitals checked</p><p>Walking practiced</p><p>Words spoken</p><p>Lucio looks at his sleeping Birdy for the second time ever. This time he's not so scared, and birdy's not so fitful. This time the bird stays of his own will, finally just once Lucio manages to beg and talk Birdy into staying. Finally it felt right.</p><p>They could touch this time.</p><p>Bird still wouldn't take off the mask, but Lucio was more than happy to deal with that if it meant he could hold him close like this. Bird was turned away while Lucio wrapped his arms around the man's waist. Every inch of skin that touched the count burned him in the most euphoric tingly sensation. It had been so long since someone touched him. </p><p>Birds hair was soft under Lucios chin. Lucio had mostly lost his sense of smell to the illness, but birdy's skin under his hands reminded him of the best smells he could remember. Like Mercedes and Melchior back when they were puppies, or clean laundry after drying in the sun all day.</p><p>Now he watched birdy's steady breaths, in and out. The feeling of his body shifting in Lucios arms with each breath made him feel oddly strong. Like even though he was sick and powerless, he still held a life close to his chest. One that would never have to know hardship again due to the Count's command.</p><p>He felt both safe and powerful at the same time, and for the first time in a long time Lucio fell asleep knowing he didn't have to awaken alone.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Spectacular art by spicy-jack on Tumblr or JackSpiicy on Twitter.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave a comment to make me unreasonably happy. They are my only sustenance and vlagnagog hungersssss.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Every day he had new gifts for you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It started pretty normal, he'd have a snack or a trinket for you to keep. Every time you went to his room you never left empty handed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then there were the flowers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn't all talk either, he'd actually demanded asters be imported all the way across the Salty Sea. You tried to contain your shock, but you could still see how his shit eating grin grew at your reaction to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fields </span>
  </em>
  <span>of flowers he'd had set up to surprise you. Every color lined the walls and you walked through them in wonder. It had been so long since you had been outside, much less seen so many flowers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tried to pick your favorites, but there were so many. So many sizes and colors and varieties. You knew asters came in many breeds but the sheer volume of it all was overwhelming. It was so very Lucio.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gifts got more extravagant from there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You'd cast a pain numbing spell and he'd be so grateful he'd gift you a riding horse. Or an overcoat made of forign sable fur. He'd even offered you a new house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today you were already laughing as you watched him dig around his room for his latest present.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hold on I know it's around here. I've had it for a while but I wanted to get it polished before I gave it to you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Polished? Did he get you shoes?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ahah!" He shot up so fast from his search that you jumped. Limping back to his bed where you sat he placed a long object wrapped in several layers of velvet cloth on your lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah yes a…. Spyglass?" You guessed, examining the wrapped gift from different angles. Lucio stared wide eyed for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What? No, It's much cooler than a spyglass" he scoffed before quickly backpedaling in a panic. "Unless you </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>spy glasses and things like that cause I can make that happen!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Relax Lucio, I like everything you get me" you chuckle, starting to unwrap the velvet. His next words stop you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Because my gifts are so expensive?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From anyone else those words would be an accusation, but Lucio said them proudly. Perhaps he still saw his wealth as his best quality?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What makes you say that?" You probe. He sits down on the bed close enough to look over your shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm saying you like when I spend money on you. And I'm happy to do it for my bird" he coos near your ear. Ah so you were right, he always thinks he has to buy you. How many people has he had to buy to make him think that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I could've sworn we already had this conversation, friend" you shake your head with a smile. "I don't need you to spend money on me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes I know, but that's not what I said" he smirked. That was an awfully coy response, what was he getting at? "I said you </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> when I spend money on you." He punctuated the sentence by taking your hand in his and leaning closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That right?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes it is" he affirmed forcefully, "you know you don't need to treat everything like it's some mental issue. You can just </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be spoiled and I can just </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> to spoil you." He rolled his eyes. You were going to make a point but now he'd rebutted it before you had the chance. You had no argument to use, well played.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alright smart guy, you have a good point" he practically vibrated at the praise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes I do"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But...I don't like your gifts cause they're expensive. Honestly a lot of them are, and this is just my opinion... poor taste?" You said it lightly but you still watched his face fall to a look somewhere between sadness and hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Poor taste? But what tastes better than cool expensive stuff that you can brag about to your friends?" His voice is small and slightly whiny.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stuff I can use? Stuff I might want because it's more me not you?" You suggest with a laugh, but he doesn't seem to find the humor. Instead he stares bitterly at the package still half unwrapped in your lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If you didn't like the things I got you you could've just told me, instead of letting me embarrass myself." He grumbles. Setting the package aside you reach a gloved hand up to stroke his face. He stiffens completely at the contact, his whole body sitting still as if afraid to move. You move your hand around to comb through the hair on the back of his head. He finally relaxes, eyes closing and body melting like butter on a skillet at your touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I said I did like them" you say softly, he takes a moment to enjoy the sensation of your hand in his hair before he answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You said they were poor taste" he mocked. You shook your head lightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Two things can be true."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sit in silence for a little longer before he opens his eyes. Tired confusion lacing his features. You suppose he needs it spelled out for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Lucio I like those things because </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>got them for me. You wouldn't do so much if you didn't care, and the idea that you're thinking about me so much makes me giddy." You laugh and look up at the ceiling for a moment, pondering how to continue. "Giving me things is obviously how you show your devotion, every gift is a love letter that I cherish." You finally decide. His head pulls away from your hand and you look to him, just in time to see his arms reach for you. Leaning precariously close. His arms encircle you, pulling you so close you have to look down to avoid poking him with your beak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let me kiss you" he almost begs, and your heart aches for the man. So forign is the concept of someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>understanding </span>
  </em>
  <span>that he immediately begs for intimacy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No" you say quietly, and there's no need to explain. You've said your piece about mask removal time and time again. He drops his head, dejected, before quickly picking it back up and making a different request.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then open your gift" he says resolutely. "You said you wanted something you could use, well you can use this."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without any more delay you untangle the gift from it's velvet binding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the cloth you produce a bright metal blade. The handle is that of a dagger but the rest is nearly as long as your forearm. It's metal is polished to a shine and it's hilt is decorated with many colors and patterns. Breathlessly you look closer to see the patterns are made from gemstones, each one smaller than a grain of rice, each one set in the metal to form a lovely combined pattern. You're transfixed by the weapon for a long time before you remember you have an audience.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You got me a knife?" You ask, just a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A caronero, actually. I don't think anyone will want to dump blood on someone carrying a dagger like that." He's almost obnoxiously smug as he reaches around you and takes the blade. Spinning it and showing off its many angles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Lucio I can't use a dagger on anyone" the very thought of causing someone harm horrifies you. He just takes your hand and places the daggers handle in it so you're holding the weapon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know...you're too gentle, bird." He says, not looking at you. "But if you have it then you'll be safe, no one has to know you can't use it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stare at him for a long time. Finally you have to change your phrasing to get through to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I </span>
  <em>
    <span>won't </span>
  </em>
  <span>carry a weapon, it's not who I am" you clarify sadly. Now he looks taken aback.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Bird I'm not asking you to hurt anyone, look it's not even sharp" he runs his right hand index finger up the edge of the blade to prove his point. He comes away unharmed. "You said I couldn't do anything about how people were treating you, but you were wrong! With this no one will think of hurting you again." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stare at the lovely caronero again, running your fingers over it's edges and marveling at something that looked so dangerous could be so smooth and harmless. Was it even a weapon if it wasn't sharp? Could you carry such a thing to keep the tormentors at bay?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucios gaze held yours with a mixture of fear and hope. He did this so you'd feel safe, but something about his expression made it seem like he needed it too. He needed to feel like you were safe. Wrapping the velvet back around the dagger you made a decision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thank you Lucio, it will never leave my person"</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave a comment to make me unreasonably happy. They are my only sustenance and vlagnagog hungersssss.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry this update took so long, it's crunch time on a deadline I've got so these are gonna be less frequent for another week. Then we're going right back to breakneck pace baby!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Your peers said nothing as you carried the jeweled dagger on you for the rest of the day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valdemar said nothing as you brought it to work with you in the morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one said anything for the days that followed, it was refreshing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every time you saw it you thought of Lucio. He had truly put thought into this gift, where can you even find an unsharpened dagger? You had been convinced that the only thing that would cure the bullying was time, but here it was. The man was magic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was always doing that, giving you things sure, but also coming up with answers. He could help you out of any situation and just smile nervously like it didn't happen. It made you wonder how much he'd had to squirm out of for him to pick up such a skill. How much he'd smiled through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was always smiling, it seemed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were excited as you rode the magic elevator to your assignment. You had practically no work in the facility anymore and had moved to caring for Lucio full time. At his request of course. In any other circumstance this would worsen the teasing when you were down there, but remember the dagger. You practically threw open his door when you got there, Mercedes and Melchior trotted behind you. Equipt with their brand new mask-muzzles to keep them safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Morning Beautiful! I brought you a surprise" You called cheerily. Despite it being a supposed surprise, Mercedes and Melchior were through the door and all over the Count before you'd finished your greeting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"MY BABIES!!" Lucio squeezed the dogs tight around their necks, one dog in each arm. The borzois put up with it for a minute but eventually started squirming and whining to be released. He reluctantly let them go and moved to petting their long white fur as you set your stuff down. "I thought they were at risk of getting sick?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Check out their new threads, no more risk" you said smugly as the dogs pawed at their muzzles. Lucio was beyond happy, scritching them and cooing nonsensically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Babies babies babies, did you miss me huh? All alone without you, oh you haven't been hunting in forever. Poor pups."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So today I was thinking we could take your vitals quickly and then maybe try some writing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio stopped for a moment, hesitant. He could read, and he wouldn't take criticism on that, but writing was not a skill he possessed. He had been left handed before...well he just never really was able to learn. You sit down softly on the bed next to him and hold out your hand. He knows the drill by now, putting his hand willingly in yours. You feel for a pulse and count.</span>
</p><p><span>Lucio's still making that concerned face. He hated confronting things he's bad at, you know that, but he should know by </span>now you only mean to help. His brow pinches slightly as he absent-mindedly rubs Mercedes' ears. His unbrushed hair falls in his face, and his pale skin flushes just so lightly on his cheeks and nose. He stops petting Mercedes for a moment to tuck the fallen hair behind his ear, the ear with the freckle just below it on his neck. He almost looks like a painting. </p><p>
  <span>You weren't counting, shit, how long had you not been counting? Heart stuttering in embarrassment you restart, hoping he doesn't notice the delay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reaching for the same metal cup you always use you crawl farther onto the bed to listen to his lungs. His breath hitches like always but he says nothing. It's almost worse, not knowing what he's thinking. His lungs sound worse, there's no getting around that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something presses the back of your neck so suddenly that you shiver and jump. Whipping around you see Melchior sitting behind you, trying to sniff you though the cloth covering his snout. You laugh lightly and give him several good pats before moving to continue your work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally you sit beside Lucio with your notebook and offer him a quill. He eyes it like one might a poisonous spider.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't have to if you don't want to," you say softly. He looks from the quill to you and his expression softens. Your face goes hot at the look. He takes the quill from your gloved hand, gingerly holding it in his metal one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What am I thinking" he mumbles to himself, but you catch it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good question" you shoot back and he jumps, not expecting you to have responded. "What </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>you thinking?" He looks like he might make something up for a moment before seeming to think better of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was thinking...what am I thinking? You're not trying to embarrass me" he turns so red his hair stands out like strawberry leaves, but still he remains firm with his story.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I want to help you because you said you regretted being unable to write. It's up to you" you speak frankly. The balls in his court. With a resolute shake of his head he responds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes I want to learn." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Very good, which hand is your dominant?" You offer the notebook to him. He takes it, and you already regret the phrasing as you see a cheeky grin starting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Care to find out?" He hums tauntingly. Tongue darting out to lick at his teeth-baring grin. You watch, mesmerized, as his smile splits open and his teeth take hold of his bottom lip. His eyes skim you indecently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Get ahold of yourself man, he's made jokes before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Another day," you choke, but it isn't convincing. He looks elated that he was finally cracking you. "You know what I meant, Lucio"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah…" his face goes serious again, eyes fixing on the quill held clumsily in his prosthetic hand. "My left…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You look from the quill all the way up his arm to where the prosthetic supposedly connects. Could that work? He'd had it for a long time, and it acted like a normal arm. Maybe he could pull it off?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alright" you say after a moment, you take a quill of your own and demonstrate the proper way to hold it. He copies well enough and your confidence grows higher.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So you just scratch the paper?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No" you laugh slightly "the ink in the quill stains the paper in whatever shape you choose" carefully you lower the quill to the paper and write something in loopy script. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ooh pretty, what's it say?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You blink for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn't know what it says? In all the time that he's been trying to learn to read, of all the things he's picked up, </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>was unfamiliar? You shake your head in disbelief but try to take it in stride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why don't you copy it and I'll tell you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes many many tries and a lot of explanation on how to form each letter, but finally he produces something legible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's gotta be it, it looks just like it!" He exclaims, eyes skimming over his page of failed attempts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yep, this one's good. If I read it in a sentence I wouldn't look twice." You say warmly. He visibly puffs up at the praise, no doubt thinking himself the most gifted writing student ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So?" He asks. You decide to feign ignorance for a moment longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"'so' what?" You ask innocently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What does it say?" He practically explodes in curiosity. The dogs react to their masters yelling by getting up and tromping around the bed. Bouncing the quills and ink bottles onto the carpet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh great, I'll get it–"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Forget it just tell me!" He grabs you dramatically and shakes you. "It's eating me Birdy!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ok ok calm down!" You placate. You suppose if you put it off any longer he'll start begging. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carefully you tear the paper around where he copied the word, separating it from the rest and placing it gently in his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It says Lucio"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets very quiet at that. He stares at it for a solid ten minutes. Eyes wandering from one end of the word to the other. Looking at each loop and curl as his smile grew wider with each passing minute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I wrote my name," he says finally. "How did I not know how to read my name?!" He smacks himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's what I thought!" You laugh, and he laughs with you at the strangeness of it all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're the best you know" he leans in close, fingers closing around the piece of paper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So I've been told…" you pretend to examine your fingernails as he snickers at your response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm serious Birdy, when I get better I'm going to make you the most spoiled lover in the city." his voice drops as his lips drip promises. You always thought his words were a trap, trying to make you stay. Now your heart beat faster and your limbs grew warm. He was saying it because he wanted to, and he said you were allowed to like being spoiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The whole city?" You say tightly, and his eyes light up at the response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No Birdy, I'll make you the most spoiled lover in the whole </span>
  <em>
    <span>world</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I could make you my Viscount." He wraps his arms around you and before you even know what's happening he pulls you smoothly into his lap. "Whaddya say?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could very well make a recovery, you firmly believe he could, but something else made your face fall. He said Viscount…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was the Count…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Countess.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You don't know if it hadn't occurred to you  before, or if it was just relevant now that you'd begun finding him </span>
  <em>
    <span>unbearably </span>
  </em>
  <span>attractive. But there was no overlooking the fact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Lucio...you have a wife"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucio starts suddenly, as if he'd forgotten for a moment as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So?" He smiles nervously. "It's not like Noddy and I are exclusive." You shake your head and rise from his lap, standing over him for a moment with one leg planted on either side of his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You have a wife Lucio, I am your </span>
  <em>
    <span>doctor</span>
  </em>
  <span>" you shake your head again slowly as he looks helplessly up at you. "There's no way you spin it where this will work."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You feel like a fool, you couldn't pursue this. There were so many things wrong, so many factors. Lucio doesn't respond, but he doesn't look upset either. He looks decided.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What was he planning?</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave a comment to make me unreasonably happy. They are my only sustenance and vlagnagog hungersssss.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Back in the swing of things with three chapters for you guys. Should be continuing my original upload frequency.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lucio didn't need a long time to think about it, he knew what he was going to do.</p><p>Nadia hadn't visited him once in the time he'd been sick. She hadn't stood by him when he wanted to fight in the coliseum, she'd laid all the blame on him when he couldn't find the funds to fix the flooded district, and she never set aside her pride long enough to just <em> appreciate </em> when he gave her a glamorous party or gift. </p><p>He wasn't the best husband either.</p><p>He shot down most of her ideas to improve the city, he had been far from faithful over the years, he was always forcing her to be the voice of reason... looking back he was downright childish.</p><p>For better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health... they'd never upheld their vows. They'd never supported each other like they were supposed to. Maybe it was because they'd rushed into it, but they'd never really treated each other like a spouse.</p><p>Nadia was a reasonable woman, and Lucio was getting better at articulating his thoughts in a constructive manner, maybe if he just tried to talk to Noddy she'd understand. Maybe he could convince her to let him have his bird.</p><p>The one he wanted to love and to cherish, till death does him part.</p><p>He took no time coming to such a conclusion, it was in the blink of an eye. Birdy said he wouldn't be with a married man, so Lucio wouldn't be married if that's what it took. He remained just as decided right up until Nadia actually came to his room.</p><p>She'd been asked there many times, but only this time had Lucio <em> demanded </em> her audience. He'd forgotten how one should not <em> demand </em>things of Countess Nadia Satrinava.</p><p>Tall and beautiful, the entire room seemed to bow as she crossed the threshold. Long, graceful strides brought her to the chair at her husband's bedside. Her brows pinched slightly and her eyes were lidded as she looked down upon the man sitting on the edge of his bed. She was the picture of royalty, Lucio had almost forgotten how imposing the woman was whom he'd begged to marry all those years ago.</p><p>"You have something important to say, Lucio?" She asked diplomatically, but there was a discomfort to her tone. She was upset seeing Lucio in such a state.</p><p>"Noddy! What no hello?" He stumbled nervously. One can be married for years and still talking to Nadia was like talking to a stranger. Or an employer.</p><p>"Hmm" she sighed, seemingly in thought before looking upon Lucio with pity. "I apologize, hello dear" She says solemnly.</p><p>Oh bless this woman's patience.</p><p>"Uh hi," Lucio responds nervously, desperately grasping for the speech he had in his head before Nadia arrived. "Ehem uh...so you been good? Running the city without me?"</p><p>"Yes" she answers primly, mentally banishing the feeling of condescension from Lucios words, she's known him long enough to know that's not how he meant it.</p><p>"Good good" he's sweating now, what was he going to say? Something about how they didn't support each other? "So um…."</p><p>"Did you have something to discuss?" She crosses her legs, something she always does when she knows Lucios struggling. She peers at him with slight amusement, just as she had every day for many years. </p><p>There was no hope now, Lucio's mind was completely blank of all his arguments. The only thing he could do was say it outright and hope for the best.</p><p>"Noddy do you ever think we shouldn't be married?" Dammit man you were supposed to say it <em> outright </em> not take the cowards way. But Lucio was a coward when it came to Nadia, he didn't want to make her angry and he definitely didn't want to make her feel like she hadn't been a good wife. She didn't deserve that when she had done so much for him.</p><p>"From time to time" she concedes. Lucio's more surprised that she admitted it than anything else. "But what's done cannot be undone" she says absently.</p><p>"Yeah, I don't think I remember how to not be married" Lucio laughs nervously. She smiles a bit, anyone else would see such a smile as mocking but Lucio knows it's reluctant agreement. Her smile is short lived as a raised eyebrow takes the spotlight. </p><p>"Lucio...are you suggesting you wish to <em> divorce </em>me?" Her tone is careful. Lucio gulps but mentally thanks her for the setup.</p><p>"Well would it really be the worst thing?" He speaks softly, convincingly, but Nadia knows the tone too well. What she says makes Lucios mind race.</p><p>"Do you really wish so much to see the city fall?"</p><p>What did that mean? How did she jump from one thing to the fall of Vesuvia? She was always doing that, making connections he couldn't see and it always ended up making him feel stupid. Usually when he felt stupid the feeling became anger, but that never went over well with Nadia.</p><p>He'd been talking with Birdy for a while and he was better at understanding himself now, he could do this. What would Birdy say?</p><p>"Can you walk me through how you got from divorce to that?" His tone was still laced with irritation but his words felt more like birdy's. Nadia must've noticed as well.</p><p>"You really don't understand? Perhaps my conclusion was a bit rash…" holy crap she took it back, Nadia <em> never </em>took anything back. "You wish to divorce me so that after you die I won't inherit control of Vesuvia." She explained. Lucio thought that was a bit paranoid, but it was a valid concern. </p><p>"That is the last thing I want Noddy, you're definitely more qualified to run this joint then I am."</p><p>"Then why could you possibly want a divorce when you're so ill?"</p><p>Lucio thought for a moment, Birdy says the truth makes things less complicated. Should he tell her?</p><p>"No reason that matters I guess" he deflates in shame at himself, he couldn't do it. He wasn't afraid of Noddy and he wasn't ashamed of Birdy, but he was <em> married </em>.</p><p>He begins to understand what Birdy meant when he said that.</p><p>Lucio didn't know plenty of things, but he knew the comfort of the woman sitting before him. The comfort of knowing Vesuvia is in the best hands possible as he lays sick in bed. The comfort of understanding what every gesture means without having to guess, the predictability of living with someone for so many years.</p><p>It was the happiness of knowing he was married to <em> her </em> . The bitter realization that he's married to <em> her. </em> The screaming and the blood and the wound licking. The sheer routine and profound <b>boredom</b> that comes with being married to her for <em> years. </em></p><p>It was something he couldn't just break for a bird. Sure it was a bird he loved beyond anything he could understand, but Nadia was his <em> wife. </em></p><p>He couldn't do that to himself. He couldn't do that to her. </p><p>"That's all you wanted to say?"</p><p>"Yeah forget it" he smiled a little but Nadia didn't look convinced. Nonetheless she dropped it in the interest of continuing her visit, but Lucio was facing another issue altogether. He couldn't divorce Nadia, but he <em>needed</em> Birdy, like plants need rain.</p><p>Lucio had to lie to him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave a comment to make me unreasonably happy. They are my only sustenance and vlagnagog hungersssss.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You're divorcing Countess Nadia?"</p><p>You were beyond shocked by the proclamation when he made it. There was no way he was that heartless, that utterly oblivious.</p><p>"I just want to show how devoted I am to making this work" he took your hands in his as he said it, eyes dreamily wandering your form. It was a dramatic and touching declaration to be sure, but it didn't answer the question.</p><p>He was lying.</p><p>"You're not divorcing her," your voice even sounds exasperated to your own ears, you release his left hand and take his right in both of yours. "You just want me to stay with you anyway"</p><p>"What? Birdy I…" he stumbled for a moment before immediately caving under your gaze. "Oh please please Birdy don't leave me just cause I'm married!" </p><p>"Lu–" before you can respond he crumbles like old Cotija in your hands. Dropping his face into your lap and sputtering pathetic pleas.</p><p>"My bird don't go, please don't go I'm sorry I couldn't do it. I can make this work I promise" his shoulders are shaking while he speaks into your clothes, "I know I can make it up to you if you'll still have me, I'll make it all worth it no matter what it takes"</p><p>"Holy crap..." you gather him in your arms, this took a very sudden turn. "Hey hey no one said I was going anywhere." You cup his face, it's already streaked with tears and it holds an expression of unexplainable fear. He clings to your work clothes like a child. </p><p>"You're not? But you said..."</p><p>"No, silly man" you pet his hair softly while his breathing slowly settles. You wish you could feel the soft golden locks on your fingers, but for now gloves would have to do in terms of comfort. "I'm still going to be here to help you, but my work comes first and you still have an obligation to the Countess"</p><p>His red gaze turns from one of fear to one of irritation, resignation lacing his voice.</p><p>"You always say your work comes first, you're just trying to save face" he spits petulantly, resting his head on your chest and scooching closer. You continue your rhythmic petting while you mull over his words.</p><p>"Save face?" You ask absently, perhaps he's been perceiving your struggle to stay professional as something else entirely.</p><p>"Yeah," he looks up at you, pushing himself far enough into your arms to finally knock you flat onto the bed. "You're trying to deny how much you want to forget that I'm your patient." He accuses.</p><p>"What?" You laugh, his claim is outlandish in your mind but a small part of you wants to know where he's going.</p><p>"You think you've got me figured out but I'm pretty observant too" he walks his two fingers up your torso before flicking the end of your beak with his index. "I see how your hands fidget when I tell a story, you listen awfully closely when I talk of the grandeur in my life…" he smirks, savoring having the upper hand for once. </p><p>"That right?" You aren't afraid of his discovery, your interest has not been a secret. You only hope he knows what he's talking about.</p><p>"Uhuh, you <em> want </em>the life I talk about. You want the parties and the finery and the glory. I can see how much you want it in every gift you accept" he ends the sentence by stealing a light kiss on your collar. "I can hear it in every laugh" he steals another, higher on your neck and you find yourself unable to contain your chuckling. </p><p>He's right, you want the life with him that he promises, you want it so badly you've begun to dream about it at night.</p><p>"You caught me, Lucio" you sigh, but he's perplexed for a moment. Seemingly confused he actually got it right. Then his whole face splits into a grin and his eyes light up at the praise. With newfound energy he crawls farther up you and effortlessly slips behind you so you both rest against his headboard. It takes you a moment to realize the cheeky bastard has put himself in the perfect position to whisper in your ear. </p><p>"When I get better I'm going to give you everything I know you want. It won't matter I'm married because you're who I'll show off to the city." </p><p>You're about to shoot a response when he silences you with insistent kissing on your neck and ear. </p><p>"I'll throw a party for every day you decide to stay with me, and I'll give you the most thrilling, wonderful life I can. You'll never have to live a dull moment my love." He hardly gets through the sentence with all the kisses he peppers you with. By the end you're a blushing, giggling mess in his arms. Surely that's exactly what he planned.</p><p>"You make a lot of big promises" you say breathlessly when your laughter finally dies down, pecking his nose lightly with the tip of your mask. He presses his face into your neck as he whispers.</p><p>"I mean every word, beloved, tell me what thrills you. Anything at all." He breaths. You think of stopping him for a moment but you yourself are brought up short by a thought. </p><p>Would it really be so bad to think? For just a moment, indulge in the fantasy of the life you could have with the count? Your mind wanders to decadent food and wine, impossibly fine furs splayed out by the fire with his dogs. His smile never a grimace of pain like the illness has caused. His eyes clear of plague and only on you while he tells you grand stories.</p><p>Your hand squeezes his subconsciously as your mind drifts to places you haven't allowed it to. Places you've been too practical to consider. Could you allow this to happen? Was it really so bad when your connection was so strong already? </p><p>Your heart aches at the thought and you realize he's still awaiting your answer.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave a comment to make me unreasonably happy. They are my only sustenance and vlagnagog hungersssss.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"What thrills me?" You repeat, having almost forgotten the question. He smiles wider at your supposed participation. </p><p>"What makes you happy? name it and it's yours" so many things cross your mind, none of which can be bought.</p><p>"I'm happy when you hold me like this, and when you tell me about the far off places you've been." You think the statement will throw him, but he hardly even thinks before answering.</p><p>"Then I'll tell you stories every night until you sleep, and every morning I'll hold you as you wake." He says it effortlessly, as if he doesn't know the words eviscerate your composure on the spot.</p><p>"I...I'm happy when...you learn things from me, so I know you are trying" your attempt to continue casually is feeble, but again he answers without trouble.</p><p>"And I'm happy to learn from someone so virtuous and beautiful, I'll never be tired of having you care enough to teach."</p><p>Well now you've melted, there you are a puddle of butter on the ground. How has this happened?</p><p>"I think you've learned enough from me about expressing your thoughts" your voice is tense as you feel him begin to rub soft circles into your side, just beside your ribs. He hums a low laugh and it rumbles against you. He takes a deep breath against your hair as if your scent is all he ever wants to breathe.</p><p>"I could always learn more, you will still have me right? You can't deny how much we want this" he speaks so tentatively, if he were any other man you'd be suspicious it was an act. You lean your head back against his shoulder in defeat.</p><p>"I want this…"</p><p>Just as expected he squeezes your body close to his as he peppers you again with urgent kisses, excitement evident at your admission.</p><p>"Oh thank you <em>smooch</em> you're the best Birdy <em>smooch smooch I</em> won't let you down <em>smooch</em>" you're tickled again by his antics and your stomach is beginning to hurt from all the laughing.</p><p>You turn to see him properly. His hair is a mess and his face is still a bit red from his earlier crying, but his smile stretches his entire face. His eyes reflect the candle's in the dimming room and for a moment he doesn't look sick at all. He's closer to life than you've ever seen him. </p><p>Your pulse quickens and you <em> need </em> that smile. You need his haughty laughter and his nervous tics in every day you live, every breath you take. You <em> need </em>him to be happy and close to you and more than anything you feel a realization. It passes your lips without thought. Not something to be censored, just a fact.</p><p>"I love you"</p><p>His face goes serious, then elated, then crying again as he pulls you close. He rests his head on yours and holds you so tight you find it hard to breathe.</p><p>"My bird you–ah I haven't...I love you <em> too </em>obviously! I've loved you for so long I…" he's shaking and though you can't see his face above your head you know what he probably looks like. You bury your face in his chest, mindful of the beak, and let him hug you. </p><p>"Take your time" you say softly, but he doesn't need more time. </p><p>"I love you, I <em> love </em>you so much bird you have no idea. I'm so in love with you I was gonna divorce Nadia."</p><p>"You sure are saying it a lot" you joke, but when he pulls away there's only a seriousness in his countenance. </p><p>"I've wanted to for so long of <em> course </em>I'm saying it a lot. I'll say it every chance I get for the rest of my life" he practically squeeks by the end of the sentence his voice has grown so high pitched. Oh who have you fallen for…</p><p>"I wish I could kiss you" you say softly, but he's uncharacteristically against it.</p><p>"No no no, you leave that mask on" he cups your face in both hands and peers into the goggle-like eyes. You're mildly hurt for a moment that he doesn't want to know what you look like anymore, does he prefer the mask? You know that's ridiculous but your fears are irrational.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"I can't have you catching my plague now after everything, you keep it on and stay healthy beautiful bird." He presses his forehead to yours and your fear melts away, unimportant.</p><p>"How responsible…" you tease, but he doesn't take the bait. He just sits close to you with his forehead pressed to yours.</p><p>0</p><p>You feel light as a feather as you descend down the lift. You finally accepted that you love the idiot, a difficult yet freeing notion to grasp. You strongly believe he could make a recovery, and you'll do everything in your power to make it happen. </p><p>You love him.</p><p>You shake the thought from your head, here you were on your way to turn in for the night and all you could do was think of your lover like a giddy schoolboy.</p><p>Your lover… it was nice to think.</p><p>Ah there's no hope for you you lovestruck fool.</p><p>You reach the facility and remember your dagger, carefully unsheathing the blade so it's clearly visible. You get the same cautious and disdainful looks as you trek through the facility, but you've longsense stopped being intimidated. On the contrary now you feel dignified, smug even. They don't know it, but that's the Counts lover they're sneering at. You almost reach your room before someone grabs you.</p><p>You let out a relieved sigh as you realize it's just no. 062.</p><p>"Doctor," you greet your superior with a nod, but the older woman is having none of it.</p><p>"You got vaseline all over your neck."</p><p>Eyes going wide your hand shoots up to clasp your neck where Lucio was kissing you. Sure enough your hand came away with the telltale shiny substance the count uses on his lips. How did she notice?</p><p>"Yep" you deadpan, you've got no excuse and she knows it. With a shake of her head she swats you. </p><p>"With a patient? Are you serious?"</p><p>"I know and I really tried to avoid it but…" you trail off. It's hard to see her expression with her cloth mask obscuring most of her face, but something in your voice makes her eyes soften.</p><p>"Tread carefully little mister, you're playing in dangerous territory" she warns at length before trudging along. You don't often value the opinions of others in your personal life but...the old doctor was the closest thing you had to a friend.</p><p>Her understanding meant the world.</p><p>You smile to yourself as you enter your dormitory. Many are already sleeping so you take your time setting aside your safety equipment and getting ready for bed. You set the dagger on your bed to change out of your clothes when something catches your attention.</p><p>Picking the dagger from the bed you examine its polished metal. Red is smeared across it like blood, but it isn't even sharp enough to <em> draw </em> blood. Looking closer you see the red is not on the blade itself.</p><p>It's in your eyes reflected on the daggers surface.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave a comment to make me unreasonably happy. They are my only sustenance and vlagnagog hungersssss.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You're in denial at first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your eyes are probably red from lack of sleep, or poor diet. As the days go by your head isn't foggier than normal and your breathing doesn't become difficult. You continue as normal, hiding your eyes behind your mask and avoiding the public showers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But one cannot hide things from Quaestor Valdimar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You don't know if it was a roommate that turned you in or just the Quaestor's uncanny ability to make life miserable, but you're called for a surprise physical a few days after your disturbing discovery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now you sit in their chambers, a room no one tends to leave, and you watch them arrange their equipment. Your mask sits on the floor leaving your bloodshot eyes clearly visible. They turn abruptly, tugging their mask over their mouth and looking you up and down. Their eyes only fix on your obvious ones for a moment before they continue their assessment. Coldly they turn your head from side to side, their fingers like ice on your skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You've been a very amusing specimen, no. 137" they say lightly, you don't answer. "Spending all your time with the count. Helping him walk, helping him recover...he even went so far as to threaten me for you." They step away and write a few notes down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I–"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah ah" they silence you immediately. "Good samples don't speak, open" they hold a wooden tongue depressor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swallowing your fear you do as you're told, they are far from gentle with the depressor as they examine your throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No sign of swelling...just as I suspected" their eyes light up at seemingly finding nothing. You feel unsafe under the naked stare. "You might be my most important patient yet"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>0</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You need to find Lucio.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You've been put in one of the patient cages for now but you won't be there for long. You have to get out before the Quaestor has prepared everything. You have to find Lucio. You found something out during that physical, something you're not ready to face, not without him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though the fever is beginning to set in you know you can't rush, acting too soon could cost you everything. You wait, crouched in the too small metal cage. You wait for an hour, then another, you count the hours by how far the torches have burned down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You count thirteen hours before you move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your joints scream from being forced into an uncomfortable position for so long, but you move anyway. Carefully you work open your coat to reveal the blade you stashed inside. Taking the beautiful dagger you thank Lucio once again for the gift before jamming it into the lock. Taking a small moment to grieve the dagger you pull with all your weight. The metal groans like a beast in pain before it finally snaps. Breaking the blade clean off in the process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You only flinch for a moment at the loss before you collect yourself, standing and sprinting for the lift. About halfway there you collapse to the floor. Your limbs won't hold you and your vision is spinning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No this is not the time for the fever to get the best of you. Gripping the wall you drag yourself to your feet and keep moving. You weave through tables and night shift workers, desperately trying to look inconspicuous. The lift is in sight when you're stopped by a sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clang!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Your limbs freeze in place, air leaving your lungs like an open airlock. The others in the facility don't even question the sound of the bell, they drop their work and begin the March to bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly you turn, facing the Quaestor on the other side of the facility. They hold the bell and the look in their eye is idly victorious. Like a bat who caught a moth on the first try. Again they strike the bell.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clang!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The overly familiar sound steals your thoughts from your head and makes you tremble. All you can think is it's time to work, it's time to work, </span>
  <em>
    <span>it's time to work.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>No, move you fool they're coming!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valdemar walks slowly in your direction as you remain frozen, desperately trying to break the conditioned response to obey. You take a step towards the lift.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clang!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Your whole body tremors violently and you feel sickness building in your stomach, still you take another step.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clang clang clang!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Valdemar is walking faster now, upset at losing the grip they have on you. Everyone else in the facility has stopped walking. Either to watch or grip their heads in fear. Your steps come easier as you march to the lift. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valdemar is running by the time you reach it, but they're a hair too late. You hear the echoing clang of the bell as you ride the lift up. It grows louder in your mind and bounces inside your skull like a bird beating its wings against the bars of a cage. You take the spare mask in the lift and fasten it to your face. The last thing you want to do is get anyone else sick. You couldn't help the lack of gloves and smock, you'd just have to be careful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reaching the top you pry the door open and sprint up the stairs. Ignoring how your legs beg you to rest, ignoring how your lungs scream in protest. Your only thought is getting to Lucio before Valdemar catches you. You have to talk to him one more time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You break into the library in record speed, whipping past a confused servant dusting. You almost break the intricately crafted door Nadia made, you don't feel sorry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valdemar is close behind, you haven't looked back but you can feel their anger at your escape. After what they were preparing to do you were sure they were furious. You don't stop running when moisture accumulates in your mask. You don't stop when darkness begins clouding your vision from not getting enough air. You fly up the stairs three at a time and the dogs chase you like it's a game. You almost break the door down as you hastily fling it open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>0</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The count was in a dead sleep when his room was broken into. He wakes with a start at the sudden weight thrown at him, the unusually bare arms wrapped around him. The trembling, hyperventilating body gripping him for dear life. He doesn't need any time to know who sought his comfort so desperately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Birdy! What's wrong? Are you ok?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man's hands clasped in his hair, his breathing was too heavy to speak. He trembled from head to toe, but there was a sense of urgency in his actions as he grabbed Lucios face and fought through his own gasping.</span>
</p><p><span>"</span><em><span>Gasp</span></em> <em><span>choke</span></em> <b>hide</b> <em><span>gasp</span></em> <b>me</b><em><span>"</span></em></p><p>
  <span>Without another thought Lucio scooped the medic up and lowered him to the floor, ushering him under the bed. He'd hardly pulled back when his door was thrown open again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know you're in there" Valdemar showed no signs of the exertion Birdy had, even though they'd gotten here just as fast. "You are needed for my research no. 137"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's not in here" Lucio didn't bother to make his voice sound convincing, they both knew he was lying, instead he focused on being commanding. "Get out"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valdemar looked like they were about to murder before they stop. They look the count up and down for a long moment before their trademark grin spreads across their face once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well...if he came here to seek your opinion on the matter then I'll see him again regardless." They didn't give Lucio time to process the response before they took their leave.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave a comment to make me unreasonably happy. They are my only sustenance and vlagnagog hungersssss.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 23</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lucio was only frozen for a moment after the Quaestors departure, he sat staring at the door and blinking away the sleep that still clouded his vision. Then quicker than he'd been as a young man, he dropped to the floor and began looking over his love.</p><p>"Birdy where are you hurt, tell me and they're dead" the bird was still trembling as Lucio looked over his arms and torso for any signs of injury or discomfort. Slowly he shook his beaked face.</p><p>"M'not hurt" he mumbled, barely audible. Taking a few more minutes to be absolutely sure, Lucio led the frightened medic to sit on the bed again.</p><p>"Why were you running from Valdemar? Were they <em> going </em>to hurt you?" Lucio tried to sound calm for birdy's sake, but seeing the man he loved in so much fear made his blood boil. He only needed one excuse to take his anger out on the shifty bastard with the horns. Birdy didn't answer for a long time. He fiddled with his fingers, ungloved for the first time, and seemed to calm down slightly.</p><p>Curling an arm around his love, Lucio told him to take his time. </p><p>In the meantime the count began to notice different things. It wasn't just the gloves that were different. Birdy wasn't dressed normally at all. His smock and slacks had been traded for a casual tunic, his arms were bare and Lucio could see the small soft hairs sticking up from his goosebumps. With one deep breath the bird looked up from his hands and faced Lucio.</p><p>"Some...something's happened…" his voice was high and strained, as if he'd break down at any moment. "Something's happened and I won't do anything until I know what you want" his tone broke Lucios heart but still it was resolute. </p><p>"Whatever it is we can handle it" Lucio kept his words level even through his inner panic, bird needed him. The boy's face tilted slightly and he seemed to relax, good.</p><p>"You've changed so much since I met you, or maybe it's just now that I know this side of you…" the bird sighed almost wistfully. Lucio almost didn't hear the next words they were spoken so quietly. "I want you to live so badly…"</p><p>"I will live" Lucio almost rolled his eyes at the notion that he might <em> not </em>survive the plague. "You can count on that"</p><p>"Lucio we found a way we might cure you." </p><p>The words hit him a second too late. Like an iron thrown down a staircase they bounced and woke up everything in his head. Repeating and repeating until it was all he could focus on.</p><p>A cure, a cure, <em> a cure. </em></p><p>"That's wonderful" he was just about in tears as he wrapped his arms around his bird at the good news, but Birdy didn't seem so excited."</p><p>"Lucio…" he tried to excuse, Lucio could only pull back slightly in his excitement. Still it was enough for bird to look him in the eye.</p><p>"What I'm going to say...I gotta say it all at once or I'll never get it all out." He warned, but Lucio didn't have room in his head for any words other than those already spoken. He nodded but his mind remained fixed on the idea of a cure, they had a <em> cure. </em></p><p>"Ok"</p><p>"They… the Quaestor…" he stumbled for just a moment before continuing. "Quaestor Valdimar performed a physical on me at 5:35 yesterday evening, they deduced that I had contracted the red plague." Bird spoke in a practiced cadence, like a doctor would to a patient.</p><p>Everything in Lucios mind went silent. </p><p>"My case is unique because I've only been repeatedly exposed to one source of the plague, you, meaning there's only one strain I could have." He continued but Lucio was hardly listening. He'd gotten his angel sick, it was like a cruel joke. "Due to the unique strain in my system, examining me is the closest we'd be able to come to finding a cure for your specific illness." He finished and practically fell back at the pressure. Lucio looked at his bird for a long time and found one thing he didn't understand.</p><p>"'examining you'? That's all?"</p><p>"Yes" bird breathed, seemingly too tired to be scared anymore. "On the vivisection table."</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Lucio let the words hang in the air. Normally he'd hate letting ominous sentences hang in silence, but he had nothing to say. Yesterday everything was fine, better than fine, now the person he loved more than anything faced a terrible fate. There was nothing he could do.</p><p>He held Birdy close to him and felt the tears slip past his eyes, no sobs or sniffles. Just silent, disbelieving tears that stained his birds tunic. But the boy wasn't done, he had one more piece to share.</p><p>"Love…" he said softly, cradling the counts head against him as if it was Lucio who needed comfort. "I didn't come here just to give you bad news." He said slowly.</p><p>Lucio closed his eyes but didn't comment, what was the point?</p><p>"In a way this could be very good news, it depends on what you decide." Pulling away Birdy cupped Lucios face and made the count look at him.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"This could be your cure, my love, your chance to live." What was Birdy saying? " If you want...I mean" his words failed him once more before he could collect himself. Breathing deep and putting a bit of a smile in his words. "If you want me to go back to the facility and get vivisected...just say the word and I will"</p><p>You could hear a pin drop at the statement.</p><p>No surely the boy wasn't serious, surely he wouldn't go so far…</p><p>And he left the choice up to Lucio?</p><p>The count couldn't see his bird's face but he knew the medic long enough to know what he was thinking. He was sad but excited by the prospect of saving Lucio. He was a madman.</p><p>"Are you nuts?" Lucio was dumbstruck that he was even considering it, but the boy just shook his head serenely.</p><p>"Always have been for you, beloved, and just think about it." He cupped Lucios cheek as he spoke, rubbing calming circles into the flushed skin. "I'm going to die anyway, the fever almost got me on the way here, but this way I could still be useful. I could still save you"</p><p>"But…" Lucio's voice broke for the hundredth time and he found himself again wishing him and Birdy could have met at any other point in his life. "But it'll hurt, cutting you open will <em> hurt </em>won't it?" He thought back to the boy he saw on the vivisection table all those months ago. He couldn't bring himself to imagine his bird like that.</p><p>"Yeah...I bet it will" Birdy sighs "but I'd do it for you in a heartbeat. Faster than that…"</p><p>Lucio put his head down in birdy's lap to try and make the world stop spinning. He couldn't tell Birdy to...he couldn't accept this offer. He needed his bird, he <em> needed </em>him.</p><p>But Birdy was dying. Lucio could feel it in the burning heat of the fever on his skin. He could hear it in the awful rattling noise bird made when he breathed. Would it be crueler to let Birdy die slowly? Just to keep him around a little longer?</p><p>Lucio wanted to live, there was no denying that. He wanted to live so badly he sacrificed countless lives down in that facility. Would it really be better to save one and keep killing hundreds? Would it really be better to make Birdy die in vain? Bird had made it crystal clear…</p><p>The choice was up to him</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26031205"> "You should do it" </a>
</p><p>
  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26031163"> "You shouldn't do it"</a>
</p><p> </p><p>[The choice is up to you]</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Multiple endings, how fun, the choice is up to you reader. What do you think this version of Lucio would do? Is it out of selfishness or is it what he really thinks is best? Next update will take us down two separate paths, choose wisely.</p><p>Please leave a comment and tell me how you feel about this ridiculous idea. I need your feedback to sustain me and vlagnagog hungersssss.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After the events of one of the endings.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>One last installment to wrap it all up!<br/>Kevin, hit play.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A lot can happen in three years. </p><p>One can wake to find themself alone when they shouldn't be, abandoned without so much as a goodbye.</p><p>One can cry and rage over what was lost, one can make deals and promises to get it back.</p><p>One can die, in three years.</p><p>Three years can be spent, by the unlucky few, as a ghost. Not quite dead, not quite alive, trying desperately to hold on to memories of a better time. The memories of someone who was kind to him. Someone who, after three years, he was struggling to remember.</p><p>In three years someone can learn to doubt, perhaps he imagined his love. The one he only knew for a short time. </p><p>So those early nights spent thinking of an apprentice, trying desperately not to forget, slowly blurred together. Slowly became nights thinking of other things, forgetting what he'd learned, where he was from, who he was.</p><p>He had his painting to remind him of what he looked like. But not of... but of...who was it? Who was he just trying to remember? He couldn't recall a face or a name so it must not have been too important.</p><p>One must forget <em> some things </em>after three years alone.</p><p>So when he met the magician he saw nothing familiar. Not the shape of his face nor syllables of his name. Lucio just knew this magician could help free him.</p><p>So he followed.</p><p>All the way back to the facility he couldn't hope to forget.</p><p>It was in a time one could call "after everything". A strange stretch after adventures had been had and deals had been broken. After everything had been put back where it was supposed to be. It was a time when Lucio found himself feeling something very familiar because of his odd magic companion who freed him with a spell at the beginning.</p><p>Lucio was feeling...a lot.</p><p>The way the man watched in relish as the old facility was torn down. The way he playfully signed a joke in Lucios direction not really expecting him to be paying attention. The way he always seemed to know what to say even when he refused to say a word. Lucio felt a lot in deed, and a lot of it was too familiar for him to grasp. So he buried it with the rest of his feelings.</p><p>The man dug through the old pile of facility junk with idle interest. Lucio didn't want his magician anywhere near the horrifying stuff but before he could mention, he stopped. The man held from the pile an old, half broken mask. Tattered and probably useless from abandonment. With a smirk he fastened it to his face, signing playfully.</p><p>"How do I look?"</p><p>Lucio says nothing as he suddenly can't breathe, why can't he breathe?</p><p>A lot is forgotten in three years, a lot can be put together in a few minutes. The timer starts abruptly as the boy drops the mask from his face and tosses it back in the pile.</p><p>This couldn't be him, he was dead. He'd been dead for years and Lucio couldn't even remember his name. The Magician couldn't be.</p><p>But his love from long ago could do magic. The memory surfaces slowly as if fighting through tar. His love could do magic and medicine and he wanted to help people. People who couldn't help themselves.</p><p>Like a ghost trapped in a room for years.</p><p>The Magician even walks in a familiar fashion. The boy's hands trace the tables as he walks about the room, flinching at the visceral debris left behind. His hand...a familiar feature... comes to a stop at one workstation, decorated with a small glass vase and three blue asters. The vase is dull yellow and dusty, but the flowers are fresh as if cut this morning. Has someone been replacing them? </p><p>Asters were such lovely flowers, in Lucios opinion. His love would ask for them often.</p><p>The Magician plucked one from the vase and brought it to Lucio with a curious look. Lucio was certainly no expert at nonverbal communication yet, but he still could explain how the asters were used in the masks to cover up the smell of...their work.</p><p>With a small smile the man placed the bloom behind Lucios ear,</p><p>"I think it looks better on you, anyway."</p><p>Then he laughed.</p><p>Lucio didn't have a face or a name to tie to the vision growing clearer in his head, but he had one thing.</p><p>A voice.</p><p>The laugh rang only for a moment but it carried with it months of soft conversations, gasps and held breaths. Refusals and proposals and pleas stretching the counts mind back three years. It was the same voice he knew, the one he'd tried so hard to remember. The one he still held in his heart these many years and many heartbreaks later.</p><p>It was the voice the fever silenced.</p><p>The timer ticks off in his head and Lucio is almost afraid to voice what he knows. Afraid to ask and afraid of the answer, but the choice isn't his. He gave up the choice long ago when he let a doctor's apprentice steal what was left of his heart. Even through his panic he somehow doesn't waiver when he asks.</p><p>"Birdy?"</p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p> </p><p>Wonderful art by @munira_necromu on Twitter</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We're finally at the end guys, thanks everyone who stuck through the whole thing and kept leaving me such wonderful comments. I love you all and I hope you read many wonderful fics in the future!</p><p>♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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